From Whence He Sprang
by WereDog15
Summary: For the last four years, Jason Todd has been living on the streets of Gotham, doing whatever he can in order to survive. But one night, he encounters the legendary Batman and Robin. A little bit of help can go a long way, but Jason's world is ripped apart as he is unintentionally put in the path of one of the deadliest secret societies the world has ever known.
1. A Street Rat Named Jason

**Gotham City**

 **January 2nd, 2012**

 **22:26 EST**

 **Team Year One**

Jason pulled as hard as he could on the crowbar, bracing his feet against the very wheel that he was trying to pull the hubcap off of. "Come on, come on, come on." He muttered under his breath. He pulled on that crowbar harder than he'd ever pulled on it before and- nothing. Despite his best efforts, the hubcap didn't even budge.

He growled in frustration, though he wasn't surprised, especially given the fact that the car he was trying to break into was the batmobile. He'd seen news footage of the car taking anti-tank rockets and driving away unscathed. What hope did his measly little crowbar have?

Jason had spent the better part of half an hour trying to break into the high-tech car, only to be stymied at every turn. Smacking his crowbar against the windows in an attempt to break them hadn't left any appreciable marks on the reinforced glass, and trying to pry open the armored canopy had only left dull scratches on the bodywork.

Despite the fact that it was near freezing, and his red hoodie didn't do much to insulate him from the chill, Jason was sweating hard as a result of his efforts. He was determined to grab something, anything, from the batmobile. None of his "friends", two or three other homeless denizens that lived underground as well, would ever believe that he'd gotten this close to the batmobile unless he showed up with proof.

Since it was winter, he'd been living in one of the undergrounds tunnels in Gotham City in order to keep warm. The smell down there was terrible, but several of the pipes contained hot steam that was pumped throughout Gotham City in an effort to keep buildings heated, which made the tunnels one of the few places that a homeless citizen of Gotham could sleep without freezing to death.

Absent the ability to steal anything else, Jason was working on the hubcap.

Out of frustration, Jason swung the crowbar sideways and brought it crashing against the hubcap, where it impacted with a metallic clang. It didn't have any noticeable effect beyond denting it slightly, and making him feel better. After an hour of failure, the sight of the pathetic dent he'd made in the hubcap gave Jason a burst of new energy.

Figuring that he would get more leverage if he wedged his crowbar into the small dent that he'd made between the hubcap and the tire, Jason took a calming breath and tried again.

"Something's gonna give…" Jason muttered through gritted teeth as he pulled on the crowbar again, "And it isn't gonna be me. So come on, you stupid piece of-" The hubcap popped off without warning, knocking him back onto his ass. He sat still for a moment of stunned silence before he let out a triumphant whoop at his success.

There was just enough light in the alley for him to see that the nuts holding the wheel in place were standard sized. The thought of stealing the batmobile's tires entered his mind. After all, he had a car jack and a tire iron. He'd been planning to steal the tires off of regular cars before he'd caught sight of the batmobile parked in the alley. A hubcap would be a nice souvenir, but actual tires from the batmobile? Someone might be willing to pay a pretty penny for those.

He turned around to reach for duffel bag that he stored his tools in, and turned back to face the car just in time to catch a hint of movement. Almost imperceptibly, the front left end of the batmobile dipped ever so slightly, as if shifting in response to a weight that hadn't been there before.

Jason froze, the hairs on his body standing on end.

He lifted his head and found himself looking at Robin, the boy wonder. Jason recognized him instantly; what Gothamite wouldn't? Batman's longtime partner was legendary, though from what Jason could see, inaccurately named. From his size and build, Robin looked to be in his mid teens. Definitely not a boy, but not quite a full grown man either.

In comparison, Jason looked exactly like what he was: a 12 year old kid made lean but agile from four years of living on the streets.

Robin was seated comfortably on the hood of the Batmobile, feet settled on the wheel well of the big car, looking down at Jason with an unbelievably amused expression on his face. In response, Jason gawked up at him, too shocked to react. They observed each other in silence for a long moment.

"You do realize that's the Batmobile, right?" Robin asked, voice full of amusement as he broke the silence.

Jason blinked. "Duh." He replied as he stood up slowly. Truth be told, even he was surprised at how his voice didn't waver. "You do realize you left it parked in Crime Alley, right?"

Robin shrugged and laughed, the sound echoing through the alley. "What can I say? We were in a hurry."

Jason's eyes widened. The boy wonder had said "We". Jason spun quickly-

And came face to face with a giant black bat symbol, barely an inch from his nose. Almost unconsciously, his eyes trailed upward, and he found himself staring upon Batman's impassive features. It was impossible to see Batman's eyes, but the vigilante's head tilted as he examined the partially vandalized bat mobile before returning their gaze. That eyeless stare unnerved him.

Jason couldn't really explain what, if any, decision making process prompted his next move. He took pride in the fact that he'd been able to take care of himself in more than a few scrapes that he'd gotten into on Gotham's streets for the past four years, but any Gotham street kid who didn't recognize that there were fights that he simply couldn't win usually ended up a corpse. His finely honed senses told him that this was one of those fights.

At the same time, those same instincts told him that if he ran straightaway, he'd only be caught tired. Which meant that if he wanted to escape, Jason was going to have to come up with some new options real quick.

Faster than he'd ever moved before, Jason lunged and scooped up the hubcap that had been lying on the floor in one hand and grabbed his tire iron with the other. As he spun around, he tossed the hubcap at Batman like a frisbee while using the momentum of his turn to swing his crowbar in an overhand blow directed at where Robin was sitting on the car. He was hoping to break the bone and escape while his opponent was distracted by the agonizing pain. It was a tactic that had served Jason well before, on the occasions that he'd encountered some of the other street gangs that called Gotham home.

The blow connected, not with flesh and bone, but with bare metal. In the time it had taken Jason to launch his pre-emptive attack, Robin had flipped backwards, directly away from the arc of the strike, and now stood on the other side of the car, still looking amused by the situation.

Jason threw the tire iron at him.

Robin snatched it neatly out of the air with a gauntleted hand.

Jason ran.

As he sprinted down towards the far end of the alley, where he'd be able to dive into the underground tunnels and escape, he spared a glance back towards Batman, hoping that the other half of his impromptu attack had fared better.

It hadn't.

Batman's eyes were still on him as he ran. The only difference was that he now held a hubcap within both of his hands. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold winter air ran down Jason's spine, and he pushed his legs to carry him as fast as they could.

He didn't get more than a few feet before a neatly thrown bolas wrapped around his legs, tangling them up with a length of rope. With his legs restrained, Jason pitched forward as he fell.

He worked frantically, but it was too little, too late. Batman's shadow loomed over him, looking down at him. Robin stood behind him, mirroring his partner's proud stance.

"What's your name?" Batman asked him.

Jason met his eyes unflinchingly despite the peril he found himself in. "Jason."

"You're fast." Batman stated. Jason didn't reply. What was he supposed to say to that? He'd expected them to scold him, turn him over to the authorities so that he could be put back into foster care. He'd expected them to beat him for daring to try and steal their car.

He certainly didn't expect what happened next.

In the time it took him to blink, Batman tossed a batarang that sliced through the ropes wrapped around his ankles. "Listen to me very carefully, because I'm only going to ask this once."

Batman stepped closer, extending a gauntleted hand for Jason to take. "Are you hungry?"

Jason was too bewildered by the abrupt question to respond as he was pulled up to his feet, though the rumbling in his stomach answered for him. Batman interpreted the silence for him, turning to face his young partner. "Robin, I think there's a diner around the corner. Would you mind getting us something to eat?"

Robin was already moving towards the street. "Sure thing." He called back.

It took a moment for Jason to give voice to the confusion that he felt. "Huh?"

—

Of all the ways Jason expected to spend the night, sitting on the hood of the Batmobile on a hill overlooking Gotham City eating cheeseburgers with Batman and Robin wasn't one of them. Not that he was complaining about the food. Or the company.

Batman and Robin sat on either side of him, and he had a survival blanket pilfered from the bat mobiles emergency supplies wrapped around himself to protect him from the cold.

"Slow down Jason." Robin said, watching as 12 year old gnawed his way through another deluxe bacon cheeseburger. "Otherwise, you're going to lose a finger."

"Sorry." Jason mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I haven't eaten in a while."

"I can see that.

Busy as he was stuffing his face, Jason missed the softness in Robin's tone. He reached for his french fries without looking, and was shocked to discover that he'd eaten them all. He still felt hungry. The cold had numbed the pangs of hunger slightly, but now that he'd thawed out by riding in the batmobile, they were back in full force.

"Here." Robin said, offering his own carton of french fries. "Take mine."

Jason looked at them, then glanced over at Robin suspiciously. Robin shrugged. "I ate before we started our patrol tonight." There was a moment of hesitation before Jason took the offered carton with a nod of thanks and returned to his meal.

"Where are your parents?" Batman asked him.

Jason paused. "They died when I was four. CPS stuck me with my uncle, but he was killed a couple of years ago in a gang war."

"Who takes care of you now?"

"I do." He said matter of factly.

The truth was, Jason had been taking care of himself pretty much since his uncle had died. The foster family that Gotham's CPS Department had left him with had laughably inept caregivers, beating him and starving him repeatedly, stopping only when CPS were conducting their routine check ups. He'd run away from them before the first month had been out.

Jason stopped eating and looked over at Batman. "I'm sorry I tried to steal your car."

Both Batman and Robin glanced at each other. Despite the masks that obscured their eyes, a silent conversation consisting entirely of nuanced facial expressions and head tilts took place.

Robin was the one who ended up responding. "It's alright. We know where you're coming from, and all you managed to get was the hubcap, so we don't mind. It's the bigger picture you want to look at, Jason."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how Gotham has a lot of criminals, right?"

Jason gave him a flat look.

"Well, a lot of those guys end up becoming criminals because they were what you are now. Kids with nothing to lose. Always in trouble, but nothing serious. And then one day, when they get older, they do something really stupid. Shoot someone, get caught selling drugs, armed robbery, something like that. And then they're stuck as criminals, cause no one else is willing to give them a chance." Robin gave Jason a sad pat on the shoulder.

Jason nodded in understanding and acknowledgement. "I get it. But it's not like there are a lot of choices for people like me."

Robin sighed. "I know."

—

They stayed out there for another hour, even after Jason had eaten his fill. Robin did most of the talking, with Batman jumping in every now and then. It had been months, maybe even years, since Jason had last had a long conversation with someone, and he was surprised by how much he had missed it.

Even better, he didn't feel like Batman and Robin were judging or pitying him. He felt like they understood where he was coming from.

Rather than drive him back into the city and dropping him off, as Jason was expecting them to, Batman drove them even further out into the countryside. At the speed that the Batmobile was going, Jason wasn't able to catch any landmarks. By the time the car finally stopped, he didn't have a clue where he was.

"Where are we?" Jason asked as the batmobile's cockpit opened up with a hiss of displaced air. It was dark, but Jason could make out enough details to see that they were parked in front of a large turn-of -the-century building that was about two or three stories tall. There were similar buildings scattered across the spacious grounds in front of him, all connected by well maintained paths.

Batman looked back at him. "This is the Catherine Hershey School. They take in orphans and street kids who don't have anywhere else to go and give them everything they need to live normal lives. School isn't in session right now, but there are still more than a few kids staying here for the holidays. The headmistress owes me a favor. Go inside and show her this," Batman removed a metal card that had a stylized bat symbol cut into it from his utility belt and passed it over to Jason, "and she'll take care of you."

Jason held the card with an expression of awe and disbelief. "Really?"

"Really." Robin said kindly. He put a reassuring hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "Look, Jason, you seem like a good kid. You said that you were only out there because you didn't have any other choice. This is us giving you one."

Robin gestured out at the school grounds.

"This is a good place Jason. It's actually a good school too. A lot of kids like you who come here end up living a normal life, going to college, making something of themselves. This is a chance for you to put your past behind you."

Batman spoke next. "That's the deal. We're not gonna force you to stay here. Say the word and we'll drive you back to Gotham and drop you off wherever you want. But if you walk in through those doors, you stay until you can make something good of yourself."

He held out his hand for Jason to shake, looking down at him expectantly. "Deal?"

Jason stood, weighing his options carefully. Did he like living on the streets? No, he didn't. He hated having to sleep in the underground tunnels to survive. He hated being hungry, having to dive through dumpsters and steal in order to find his next meal. But he did like being independent.

He supposed that he was afraid of ending up with another terrible foster family, like the one he'd been left with before. But if Batman and and Robin were telling him that this place was a place where he could make something of himself, he would be an idiot not give it a try. After all, he'd been taking care of himself on the streets of Gotham for just over four years. How bad could a boarding school be?

Jason reached out and took the elder vigilante's hand, shaking it vigorously. "Deal."

Batman and Robin smiled. Jason took a breath to steel himself as he looked at the large double doors that led into the school. From where he stood, they seemed impossibly large and imposing. He clutched the metal card Batman had given him in his hand and took several hesitant steps forward.

Suddenly, Jason remembered something, and he stopped. He turned around and looked at the crimefighting duo. "Uh, before I go…" Jason said, running his hand through his hair sheepishly. "I left some of my stuff back in the tunnels. It's not much, but it's all I have left of my mom."

"You tell me where it is, and I promise I'll bring you your stuff before classes start in two weeks. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Jason agreed. "Uh, also…" He pointed at the hubcap that he'd pried off the batmobile earlier in the night. It was still in the back seat of the car, where Batman had tossed it when they had first set out. "Do you think I could keep that?"

Robin looked at Batman, who gave an imperceptible nod. "Sure." Robin said with a laugh as he passed it over to Jason. "You earned it."

"Thanks."

Jason tucked the hubcap under his arm as he made his way to the doors. As he opened them, he gave one last wave at Batman and Robin. Robin waved back. Jason entered the school and shut the doors behind him.

Robin turned and cast a look back at Batman. "Doesn't it make you feel warm and fuzzy inside when you get to do something for homeless orphans?"

"Come on." Batman said, prompting Robin to flip back into his seat in the Batmobile. The caped crusader kept his eyes on the road as he stepped on the accelerator and guided the batmobile back towards Gotham City, but there was no mistaking the faint smirk on his face. "One last sweep of the city, then we can call it a night."

For both seasoned crime-fighters, there had nights where being a vigilante was a trial, and nights where it felt like they were really making a difference. The look of profound disbelief on Jason's face, which had turned into one of gratitude when he realized the enormity of what they were giving him, made Robin pretty sure that this day was one of the good ones.

He settled back into his seat and smiled the whole car ride back into Gotham.


	2. Unforeseen Consequences

**The Catherine Hershey School, Gotham City**

 **January 9th, 2012**

 **10:07 EST**

 **Team Year One**

Jason couldn't believe his luck. From the moment he'd first arrived at the Catherine Hershey School, he'd started to believe that his years of bad luck were starting to turn around. The last week had done nothing to change that belief. If anything, they'd reinforced it.

The first night, immediately after Batman and Robin had dropped him off, a security guard had brought him to the main student dormitory and introduced him to one of the dorm's resident advisors. He'd been given a clean, though somewhat baggy, pair of pajamas, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and been guided to an empty dorm room where he'd slept for a bed for the first time in years. Best of all, for the first time in his life, he had his own bathroom. After years of living on the streets, only being able to wash himself when it rained and relieving himself in abandoned alleys, having a toilet and shower to himself was a luxury beyond belief.

The next morning, the headmistress had come by and spoken with him, asking him questions on his background and upbringing. She was a kind middle aged woman named , and Jason got the feeling that even if he hadn't shown her the card Batman had given him, she still would have let him stay at the school anyway.

Armed with the information Jason had given her, the headmistress and her administrative staff had managed to track down and request important documents like his social security card, education records and birth certificate on his behalf. Jason had also been forced to meet with a number of different people, including the school doctor, a therapist, and one of the teachers at the school.

This morning, he'd just finished the last of those meetings with a man who was the head of school for CHS. He'd asked a lot of the same questions that Robin had asked about Jason's life on the streets, at their first meeting. Just like with Robin, Jason had felt like the head of school had actually cared about the answer, so he told the man the truth. The meetings were all part of the schools guiding mission to ensure that less privileged children got the chance to live a better life than the one that they might have been born into.

As Robin had told him when they'd dropped him off, the school was indeed a good place. It had been founded around the turn of the 20th century by a wealthy philanthropist, who had used the profits of his industrial empire in order to fund the school. To this day, thanks to its founder and several generous donors, the school maintained a sizable endowment in order to provide for its students, who were primarily selected and accepted on the basis of economic need, geography, and the capability to learn.

While the school had more than enough resources to provide for its students, owing to its origin as a vocational rather than a college preparatory school it still expected students to perform chores while they were staying on campus. Surprisingly, Jason found that he enjoyed the menial work. He took to these tasks with vigor and without complaint: compared to trying to pick someone's pocket, or hot-wire a car, the act of shoveling snow was refreshing in its simplicity and lack of danger. The chores also gave him an opportunity to bond with his classmates, who had given him some idea of what to expect once classes started in a couple of days.

All things considered, and for the first time in several years, Jason felt happy.

 **Later that day…**

 **16:14 EST**

The Head of School for the Catherine Hershey School was a man in his early 70s named Alan Turner. As a young man, he had been a teacher, but had eventually joined the administrative side of teaching and worked his way up. Thanks to his skill, many private schools in the country had wanted to hire him, but he'd eventually settled on joining the CHS, as he had been drawn by their mission to help less fortunate children overcome their backgrounds.

By almost all accounts of the people who knew him, he was a good man. His staff knew him as a hard worker who almost never took days off, while the orphans and foster children who attended the school that he helped run knew him as a kind man who was always willing to listen to their a year, at the start of each semester, he took the time to visit any new students who had joined the school. Alan took it upon himself to look at these children in the eye and hear their stories. Given the majority of their backgrounds, he knew even just one friendly face in a new environment could be the difference between a good transition and a bad one.

For the most part his efforts were successful. There were hundreds if not thousands of alumni from CHS who remembered Alan as a man who had helped them escape the poverty that most of them had been born into.

Most of the time, Alan performed this routine out of his desire to make sure that the new kids at school felt welcome. However, this year, the act of visiting these children was a penance, something he took upon himself in order to make sure the guilt of his choices never left him. An act to make sure he remembered the children he was forced to sacrifice for the greater good.

He'd come into his office at the main building this morning to find a note on his desk. It was a simple note, made of parchment rather than paper, with four simple words written in elegant and flowing script: " _Your tithe is due."_

It never ceased to amaze him how much anguish and terror that little note caused him, just as its predecessors had haunted him every four years in the twenty since he'd become the Head of School for CHS. Each time he received one, he was reminded of the night that the man who had called himself Raptor had come to visit him in order to explain to explain certain obligations he was expected to fulfill.

On that night, twenty years ago, Alan had awoken in the middle of the night and found himself with a blade held to his throat, face to face with a killer. Not literally face to face, since the man's face had been obscured by a stylized mask that featured an avian beak and goggles, but close enough for Alan to see the faint impression of eyes behind those tinted goggles.

"Alan Turner." The man had growled, pressing lightly with his blade to stop Alan from crying out in fear. "My name is Raptor. If you make a sound, I will kill you and everyone else in this house. Nod if you understand."

The threat to him, and by extension his family, was clear. Conscious of the fact that his wife was still sleeping peacefully next to him, Alan nodded, and was silently led out into the study of his home.

Once Raptor had withdrawn to relative privacy with his captive in tow, he had proceeded to outline his purpose in coming to Turner's home that night. He was, he explained, an agent for an organization that held enormous power and influence over a large number of countries. This organization required children. Not just any children, but children who came from nothing, who could be disappeared without a fuss and shaped and moulded into whatever the organization wanted them to be.

The Catherine Hershey School was a place where such children could be acquired. One child selected on the basis of mental capability, physical skills, and lack of strong family connections was expected every four years. and as Head of the School, he was in the perfect position to both appraise any potential recruits and help their… acquisitions go much more smoothly.

And so, at that moment, Alan had three options: He could refuse to cooperate and be killed right then and there, though his family would be spared.

He could lie and attempt to betray Raptor, in which case not only would be killed, but his entire family would be tortured and killed as well.

Or, he could agree, and nothing would change. The school would continue operating under his guidance, free of interference. All that it would take was one name, given at the appointed time.

Alan had agreed.

And now he stood, 20 years and four sacrifices later, on the verge of sacrificing a fifth innocent child to the terrors in the night. His hands trembled as he withdrew a pen from his coat pocket

Briefly, Alan considered leaving the space where he was supposed to write the name of his selection on the parchment blank. If even a tenth of the rumors that he'd heard were true, he was condemning one his young charges to a great deal of pain and suffering.

But it had to be done. One child to save the rest.

Alan's shaking hand wrote out the formulaic response easily: _I nominate Jason Todd to serve._

He stood up and left the parchment in the middle of his desk, just as he'd been instructed to do all those years ago. He knew that by the time he returned tomorrow, it would be gone.

"Selene." He called to his secretary as he pulled open the door to his office and began to don his heavy winter coat.

"Yes ?"

"I'm not feeling too well. I'm gonna head home and rest for a bit. You don't mind locking up do you?"

"No problem at all." She replied with a kind smile, handing him his coat and moving to open the door that led into the hallway. "It's nice to see you taking care of yourself for once sir. Rest up and feel better."

He gave her a tight smile as he maneuvered past her. "I'll try." He promised.

Framed pictures of both previous and current students lined the main hallway leading to his office. Alan spared a glance at them as he made his way towards the exit. He envied the children in the pictures their innocence.

His was long dead.

—

 **Gotham City**

 **January 12th, 2012**

 **20:53 EST**

 **Team Year One**

"Hey," Zatanna's voice crackled through the comm in his ear. "Missed you today."

Several dozen feet below the streets of Gotham, Dick slowly made his way through the sewers, storm drains, and abandoned subway tunnels that comprised the Gotham underground. "Sorry Zee. It feels like every super villain in Gotham picked this week to launch some sort of evil scheme."

"The signal is horrible." She noted. "Where are you?"

"You don't wanna know." Dick said, taking care not to slip on a puddle of god-knows-what as he continued to search for Jason's personal belongings. The kid had given him the location of the tunnel entrance, which he'd remembered, but also the directions to his underground home, which he'd forgotten.

Absent any landmarks he could use to keep track of his position, Dick was forced to search in ever widening concentric circles. The underground wasn't illuminated, which meant that he had to navigate using his mask's night vision mode. Luckily, he was able to avoid venturing into most of the sewer tunnels that were connected to the underground, correctly reasoning that Jason would never have slept near them.

A few minutes ago, he'd come across some signs of habitation that made him think that he was on the right track.

"What're you up to tonight?" Zee asked curiously. "Not that I'm complaining, but I think the fact that I'm your girlfriend obligates you to spend at least one night a week with me."

Dick winced. He knew Zatanna understood how important he considered putting on his costume and venturing out every night, but he always felt guilty about taking time away from her.

"Sorry." He said again. "Batman and I dropped a kid we met on the streets off at a boarding school last week, and I promised him that I'd bring him some of his old stuff that he hid in the underground before classes start tomorrow."

"Ah, typical Robin." She said fondly. "Always keeping his promises… at the last minute."

He smirked at her good natured jab. "You know you love it."

"That I do." She gave a dramatic sigh that was audible despite the horrible quality of their comm signal. "You're off the hook for tonight, but I expect you to make it up to me."

"Of course. Flowers, dinner, and a movie." He said, smiling despite his surroundings. Their dates might have been relatively mundane by some standards, but they both enjoyed them immensely. "Sometime next week, alright?"

"OK." Zatanna said coyly. They both knew once he said he'd do something, he would. "Bye."

"Bye Zee." He said, closing the channel.

Dick ventured into another tunnel offshoot and caught site of an alcove that was two or three feet off of the ground. It was too small for a fully grown man to lie down comfortably, but it looked perfect for someone that was Jason's size.

He peered into the alcove and caught site of a bundle that was tucked into the back. Thanks to advanced WayneTech systems, the night vision mode of Dick's mask gave him greater levels of detail than most standard Night Vision Goggles, but it still rendered everything in a green-black monochrome.

Dick tapped the edge of his mask to deactivate Night Vision and switched on a flashlight in order to examine the bundle. It turned out to be a small backpack, wrapped in plastic bags in order to keep it both hidden and safe. A patch with the name "Jason" had been stitched onto the back.

He smiled. "Gotcha." He slung the pack onto his back and made his way back to the surface, taking care not to get the contents wet.

He could've taken the batwing and flown directly to the school, but he'd elected to ride there on his motorcycle. It made the journey out to the city's outskirts longer, but much more enjoyable. He'd always preferred the freedom of the road as opposed to the relatively cramped confines of an aircraft cockpit.

In terms of stealth, tonight wasn't a great night: it was a full moon out, which meant that it would be easier to see both him and his bike if he got too close to the school. He decided to park his bike in the woods outside the school and make his way over to the student dormitories on foot.

Hacking into the school's database and figuring out which room Jason had been assigned was child's play. The programs he'd designed could cut through military grade software with ease; the encryption on the school's wireless network fell apart like wet tissue paper.

Once Dick had determined which room he was supposed to sneak into scaled the exterior of the four story dormitory by hand. It was dark inside, which meant that either Jason wasn't there, or he was asleep.

Just in case it was the latter, Dick elected to give notice of his arrival. "Jason?" He whispered, rapping lightly on the window. "Jason, you in there?"

He waited a few moments for a reply, but there was none. The moonlight reflecting off of the window made it hard for him to see if there was any movement inside. He pulled a birdarang from his utility belt and used the edge to flip the latches of the window open, allowing him to climb inside.

"Jason?" He whispered again, not wanting to scare the bejesus out of the 12 year old in case he'd been wrong and the kid was actually there, but the room was deserted. Dick smiled, hoping that Jason was out having fun with some of the other kids on campus.

The part of him that had been raised by Alfred felt compelled to make the messy and clearly slept-in bed before completing his task and leaving. As he reached under the bed to tuck in the sheets, he felt something metallic collide with his fingers. Dick peered under the bed and was amused to find the hubcap that Jason had "stolen" from them; evidently, he'd stuck it under his bed in order to hide it from covetous eyes.

He left it there, making sure that the sheets and blanket were crisp across the mattress before fluffing and rearranging the pillow. Task completed, he unslung the backpack he had recovered from his shoulders and placed it on the bed. He'd been hoping to check in with Jason to see how he was doing, but given the circumstances, that could wait for another day.

He pulled a small notepad and pen from his belt and wrote out a short note, which he left on top of the backpack before hopping back outside and shutting the window behind him. _"Told you that I'd get your stuff back to you in time. Hope you're liking it here. - R"_

Dick made a mental note to stop by in another couple of days to make sure the kid was doing alright.

 **At That Same Moment…**

 **Somewhere.**

"Get up." An unfamiliar voice said from above him.

Jason stirred and rolled over from where he had been sleeping. As he sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes, he became aware in his groggy mind that this wasn't his room at the Catherine Henderson School.

He was in a large room, something that looked like one of the tunnels from the Gotham Underground, except older. Most of the Gotham Underground had been built out of a uniformly sized red brick, but this room was made out of irregular cobblestones. There were several scattered pillars around the room, which would have been dark if not for the hundreds of candles that had been set out on both the room's perimeter and on a candelabrum hanging from the ceiling.

Jason also became aware that he wasn't alone. There were other children around him who had also been asleep on the ground, each of whom looked to be about his age. There were 10 masked men amongst them, shouting in harsh tones for the children to get to their feet. As the youngsters complied, he could see that most of them had circles of fatigue and sleeplessness in their eyes, which were made even more prominent by the candlelight. Jason felt pretty exhausted himself, though from the dryness in his throat, it felt like he'd been unconscious for some time.

"What's goin-" The words had barely left his mouth before a hand snaked out of nowhere and grabbed a fistful of his hoodie. In the time it took him to gasp, Jason was hauled up so that his feet kicked uselessly at the air. He found himself face to face with one of the men who had been standing guard over the children.

The guard was wearing a full face mask that concealed his features, though the mask itself was unusual. There was a pair of goggles embedded on the front of the mask, as well as a stylized avian beak and eyebrows.

"Quiet." The man growled into Jason's face before dropping him onto his butt on the cold stone floor.

Jason wanted to leap to his feet and attack the man but his instincts, coupled with the knives that the masked man wore strapped to his body, told him that to do so would be an incredibly bad idea. He silently got to his feet instead. He wondered how he'd gotten here, what was going on, and what was going to happen next. The last thing he remembered had been going to sleep in his bed back at the school's dorm.

Quickly and efficiently, all the other children who were in the room with him were awoken cajoled onto their feet as well. They stood in five loose rows, facing a large podium with a bird's face emblazoned on it, at the front of the room. Most of them looked around fearfully, but kept silent.

Most. Not all.

"Who are you?" One girl in the row ahead of him asked one of the masked men fearfully, in slightly accented English. It was hard to tell by candlelight, but Jason thought she was hispanic. "Where are we?"

At a glance, Jason knew the girl had made a mistake. The man she'd questioned was similarly garbed to the other guards, but his armor was much more embellished: the brows and beak on the mask were both longer, and the fingertips of his gauntlets ended in razor-sharp points. He turned menacingly and positioned himself directly in front of her.

"My name is Raptor, Talonmaster of the Court of Owls." Despite the fact that he spoke in a hushed whisper, all of the other children heard him clearly. Raptor raised a hand and casually backhanded the girl across the cheek. The force of the blow caused her to spin and fly backwards into the row of children behind her.

"And you will speak only when spoken to."

Jason was halfway towards Raptor before he'd even realized he was moving. "Hey!" He shouted furiously, "Leave her alone!"

Some of the other guards moved to stop Jason, but Raptor stopped them with a raised hand, uncaring as Jason charged at him. The moment he got into range, Jason drew his fist back to throw a punch.

"Ulk-" Suddenly, he found himself dangling in the air again, only this time, the hand that held him was clamped around his throat rather than holding a fistful of his hoodie. "Hmm." Raptor hummed consideration as he held the twelve year old at arm's length, head tilted in an almost bird-like gesture of curiosity. "You'll do."

Before Jason could even think about struggling, Raptor shifted and punched Jason twice. Once in the stomach, and once in the solar plexus. The air rushed from Jason's lungs, and his chest seized, making it difficult to replace the lost air. A follow up blow impacted directly on his nose, blinding him with blood and tears.

Despite the pain, Jason raised his hands up to his throat and tried to pry Raptor's fingers from around his throat but it was impossible. Raptor's fingers felt like they were made out of steel. As if in punishment for his attempt at escape, Raptor punched him again, this time in the liver.

Jason's conscious mind crumpled in pain. Raptor was just about to hit him again when a voice pulled him short.

"Raptor, enough."

A man wearing a fine grey suit emerged from the shadows and strolled up to the podium. Like Raptor, the man was wearing an avian mask to obscure his features, but it was of a different style. Raptor wore a hood that covered his entire had, while the man in the suit had a mask that only covered the front of his face; the man's grey hair was still visible.

His mask was also much more ornate than Raptor's, made from gold. It almost seemed to glow in the candlelight. "We can hardly blame them for not knowing the proper forms at the moment. Their ignorance will pass in time."

"As you wish, Grandmaster." Raptor said. There was obvious respect in that tone. He opened his hand and dropped the 12 year old to the ground, where he landed in an unceremonious heap. Raptor bowed his head in deference to the man he had called Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster gave a slight bow in return, a master acknowledging the respect and loyalty of a servant. He turned his attention to the children in front of him and spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome.

"Hello, dear children." He said, voice warm and rich despite the mask that he wore. "Welcome. Welcome to the Court of Owls."


	3. The Trial of the Labyrinth

**Location Unknown**

 **Time Unknown**

 **Team Year One**

This wasn't the first time that Jason had lost a fight, but it was certainly one of the most painful. Between his obscured vision, the pain, and the inability to breathe deeply, Jason was helpless. He lay in a fetal position on the ground, clutching at his side as waves of pain from Raptor's punch continued to radiate outwards. He didn't know it, but Raptor had punched him directly in the liver because of how debilitatingly painful it usually was.

Someone took his arm and wrapped it around their shoulder in order to help him to his feet.

The pain from his gut wouldn't let him stand up completely straight, but with the support, he was able to straighten up enough that breathing wasn't as difficult as it had been. Jason blinked away the tears of pain in his eyes and saw that that the hispanic girl, the one that he'd tried to defend, had helped him up.

He clutched her tightly as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. The girl clutched his arm just as hard. "Thanks for trying to help me." She whispered. Jason could see that her lips had split from Raptor's backhanded blow. He winced.

"No… problem…" Jason huffed, his seizing lungs forcing him to take a breath halfway through his sentence.

Her eyes were filled with gratitude, and she gave him a faint smile. "I'm Lorena."

"Jason." He smiled back at her as reassuringly as he could in a body that was still experiencing pain induced spasms.

The relief of finding simple human contact in the nightmarish situation that they found themselves in dissipated quickly. Jason realized that he'd been so focused on dealing with the aftermath of his beating that he'd missed a large portion of the Grandmaster's speech. He started listening, reasoning that it paid to pay attention to your kidnapper's plans.

As if in response to the thought, the Grandmaster's head swiveled and locked directly onto Jason. Despite the fact that he kept on speaking, their gazes stayed locked upon each other for a good few seconds, long enough for Jason to get the faint impression of eyes behind the dark lenses of his mask before the Grandmaster returned his gaze to the children in front of him.

"A thousand years of technological progress," The Grandmaster said, "but society itself remains just as barbaric. Just as stupid. Crime. Poverty. War. Each of you has experienced the evil that runs rampant throughout the world. All of you are the products of sad and corrupt civilizations that have lost their way, led by petty men too blind to see the big picture."

"We stand as a counter to this chaos. For centuries, the Court of Owls has worked to establish a better world, one defined by purpose, and order. But we need your help to do it." He swept an arm out over the assembled children and the guards who stood around them. "The men and women standing amongst you are Talons, the most dedicated and loyal servants of the Court. Each of you was selected because it was believed that you had the potential to join them. But, here and now, we will see if you are worthy of that honor. You will be tested, and you will become the best we can make of you. You will be the protectors of the Court, and all that it stands for… or you will die trying"

The Grandmaster spread his arms out wide, casting an ever shifting shadow on the wall behind him in the candlelight. "I wish you the best of luck in the coming trials. Noctis Aeternum."

Every Talon in the room, Raptor included, saluted in perfect unity, pounding their right fists into the middle of their chests. "Noctis Aeternum!" They shouted as one.

The Grandmaster nodded before turning and leaving the way he had come. As he disappeared from sight, most of the children looked around fearfully, wondering what was going to happen next. Their question was answered within moments.

Raptor stepped forward so that he stood directly in front of the podium that the Grandmaster had just vacated. "Aspirants, form five lines of ten."

The other Talons moved in to herd them, but Jason and the others had gotten the message at this point. Fearfully but silently, they formed the five rows of ten children each.

The Talons stepped forward so that there was one at the head of each row. Jason took the opportunity to look around quickly. Lorena stood ahead of him in the same row, while another boy with sandy hair that he didn't know stood behind him. He couldn't really see the other kids ahead or behind either of them.

"Follow me." The Talon at the head of their line said. He led them away from the large chamber that they had been standing in through a long and winding series of tunnels. "Keep silent." He commanded them as they walked. "Stay in a single file line, and do not speak to anyone."

The children complied, though it seemed like a pointless order, since there was no one else there to talk to at first. However, after a couple minutes of walking, Jason caught sight of people other than his fellow captives. They were all teenagers of varying ages, all clad in black training gear, each armed with knives, swords, and other deadly weapons.

Jason knew immediately what they were: Talons in training. Evidently, he and his group were merely the latest group of "aspirants" to pass through these halls. They all watched him and his group knowingly.

What really unnerved Jason about them were their eyes. They weren't normal. The faint white lines of old surgical scars radiated outwards from their, which only served to draw attention to the eyes themselves. Where a normal person would have white in their eyes, their sclera were pure black, and their irises… their irises were pure white, almost like cut diamonds in their shine and intensity.

Their collective gazes unnerved him, and Jason looked away. Idly, he wondered if that was what the Talon's eyes looked like, hidden under the lenses of his mask.

Then he decided he really didn't want to know.

They arrived at their destination a few minutes later, a large room that was bare except for several exposed gears adorning the walls, like the inside of some enormous clock tower, and a large gate embedded into one of the walls. The gate, which was decorated with images of owls etched into its metal surface, was huge, easily 30 feet tall and 10 feet wide. There were two other Talons in the room as well, standing at attention at the sides of the gate.

At a nod from the Talon leading them, the two other Talons flanking the gate began cranking two enormous gears by hand with slow but steady motions. With the groan of straining metal and clanking machinery, the massive doors of the gate began to grind open.

"Behold the Labyrinth,' The Talon said, gesturing towards the gateway. "Beyond this point, there is no return except as one worthy to belong to our order in both body and soul. Through that gate it lies the path to death or glory. At the end of the Labyrinth, there is a fountain. Reach it and drink from it, and you will have passed the test. Fail to reach it, and you will die. There is no other option for you. Do you all understand me?"

No one replied, but the tension was palpable. From everything they'd seen so far, all ten of assembled children knew that the Talon wasn't lying.

"Good." The Talon nodded to himself as he saw how seriously they were taking the situation. There was a loud clank as the gate finished opening. "Who among you will go first?"

Silence. The kids all looked at each other, but none of them moved. It was dark; the candles on their side of the gate weren't bright enough to illuminate the other side. To Jason, it looked like the mouth of a giant monster, ready to swallow all of them whole.

That image elicited fear in him, yes, but the fear turned into anger, and he steeled his nerve. He refused to be intimidated, especially in front of the people who had kidnapped him.

He started walking forward, ignoring the astonished and fearful stares of his fellow captives as he made his way towards the gate. Before he could get too far, the Talon stopped him with an outstretched arm. There was a sheathed knife held in his hand, which he held out to Jason.

"Use it well." The Talon said.

The tone of his voice suggested that the words were traditional rather than earnest, but Jason took the knife all the same. It was a simple blade, but clearly well made, as was the sheathe. There were two leather strings attached to the sheathe so that he could tie it to whatever limb he chose to. The ever present stylized owl was stamped onto the pommel of the blade, but it was otherwise free of ornamentation.

He gripped the sheathed knife in his hands tightly for a sense of reassurance before tying it into one of his belt loops. Despite the unease and uncertainty that he felt, the fact that he now had a weapon filled him with resolve. Briefly, he thought about attacking the Talon, but quickly banished the thought. Even if he managed to catch the Talon by surprise, and that was a big if, there was no way he would be able to take out the other two Talons flanking the gate and navigate his way out of wherever the hell he was.

Seeing no other option, Jason stepped through the archway and into the labyrinth.

He was tense as he crossed the threshold of the gate and into the labyrinth, ready to flee or fight at the first sign of danger, but nothing happened once he was through. Nothing emerged and tore his head from his shoulders, and nothing dragged him kicking and screaming into the darkness.

At least, not yet.

He tried to peer into the shadows in order to see if there was anything he should be worried about, but it was just too dark. All he could was that the room was big. Easily bigger than some of the apartment buildings that he'd broken into in Gotham's outskirts.

"Use it well." The Talon said again. One of his fellow captives was joining him in crossing through the gate. Jason turned to look and saw that it was the boy who'd been standing behind him in line. He was followed closely by Lorena, who still had her knife clutched in both hands.

One by one the other children entered until they were all through the gate, and just like Jason, their faces all reflected both amazement and fear at the sheer scale of the place. The mechanical grind of old gears moving sounded out again, catching their attention.

All the children turned to look at the gateway. The Talon that had brought them to the labyrinth stood in the middle of the gateway, watching impassively with his arm crossed as the doors began to slide shut.

"Good luck." He said, just as the doors slammed shut with a loud metallic thud, leaving all ten of them standing and looking at each other blankly.

It was Jason who broke the silence. "I don't know about the rest of you," he said. "But I've got a bad feeling about this."

—

"Brothers and sisters, I call this session of the Court to order." The Grandmaster said proudly as he regarded the people assembled in the luxuriously appointed room with him. The visitors, roughly 30 men and women in all, all wore clothes that were both stylish and expensive: fine dresses and jewels, silk shirts and hand-made suits.

They were all of different ethnicities and ages, from cities all over the world. The only outward sign that unified them was their masks, each formed from fine porcelain and shaped to resemble a stylized owl face.

It was a trifle theatrical, since everyone at this little gathering knew each other by name, but tradition dictated that the masks be worn to mark the occasion.

The Grandmaster raised a glass of wine in a toast. "May the work we do here usher in the dawn of a better world."

"A better world." The members of the Court intoned, raising their own glasses in reply.

The Grandmaster smiled as he removed his mask and drank. The others followed his example, imbibing their own glasses of alcohol, which were quickly topped up by uniformed servants. With the welcoming ceremony done, the visitors were free to mingle and chat amongst themselves until he officially began the trial.

Large TV monitors mounted on the walls displayed camera feeds, with some being dedicated to general surveillance of the labyrinth's many corridors, while others centered on one of the five groups of children that were just beginning to enter the labyrinth. The feeds were monitored in a control room several floors below them, where dozens of technicians were preparing the traps and other obstacles scattered throughout the labyrinth.

It would begin shortly, the Grandmaster thought to himself. Once all the children had been brought into the labyrinth, the trial could begin.

"I gotta say, I've been looking forward to this." a voice said to the Grandmaster, bringing him out of his contemplation.

He turned to look at the man who had spoken and was pleased to discover that it was Lincoln March.

Typically speaking, most members of the Court of Owls were born into the secretive organization. Only a select few individuals were brought in from the outside, recruited for their particular knowledge and skills or their alignment with the Courts goals and ideals. Lincoln was one of those select few, and he'd been recruited because he had fallen into both categories.

Lincoln was a self-made millionaire who'd made his fortune in the media industry. He'd started out running different websites as a teenager, eventually leveraging the revenue streams into a multi-billion media empire that produced everything from entertainment programs and smart-phone apps to documentaries and news broadcasts.

Another member of the court had met him, unmasked, at some event, and after that meeting had recommended him to the Court as a potential recruit to their cause. Tentative feelers had been put out, favors had been exchanged, and within a year Lincoln March had been invited to join their secret order. Now that he'd joined the Court, he helped shape public opinion in their interest.

That power made him a prized asset to the Court, despite his relative lack of seniority. That being said, he was still considered an outsider by most members of the Court, even though he'd been a part of the court for almost 5 years at this point.

"Grandmaster." Lincoln said, inclining his head in greeting.

"Mr. March." The Grandmaster replied, returning the gesture. "I'm pleased you could join us."

"A pleasure." March said, moving to stand next to the Grandmaster. Both men watched the screens as the lift reached the bottom of the labyrinth. "Any idea on how well this year's aspirants might do?"

The Grandmaster tilted his head in thought for a moment, glancing at the main view screen. "Too early to tell." He said, catching a glimpse of the final group of children to enter the labyrinth on the screen. He recognized the young boy that Raptor had been making an example of before his arrival amongst them and smirked faintly. "Some have fire in them, but attitude must be combined with effectiveness to mean anything."

Lincoln laughed politely at the Grandmaster's observation. "True. We'll see how long it takes for them to catch on."

"Indeed. Please excuse me a moment."

The Grandmaster made his way over to an intercom built into the wall, double checking the camera feeds to make sure all the aspirants were in place before pressed a button that connected him to the control room. "You may begin."

—

They'd barely had enough time to introduce themselves to each other and take a few tentative forward when the labyrinth began to activate. The first sound to break the relative silence was the swoosh of rushing air as several bonfires suddenly burst into life, bathing Jason and his fellows in harsh yellow light.

Shielding his eyes as best he could, Jason looked around. Now that there was illumination, the room was finally revealed to him. It was shaped like an inverted cone, with the gateway they'd just entered through at the point. The floor was comprised of large stone tiles, and huge marble pillars with big fires on top of them lined the walls. Each of the walls had an etched mural, though Jason was too far away to make out any real detail.

At the far end of the room, about a football field away, Jason could see three tunnel entrances cut into the sheer rock of the far wall, high off the of the ground. Each doorway had an elevated platform about 10 feet high at its base. The platforms were unusual in that there was no obvious way to get on top of them, no stairs or ladders to climb up.

The second sound was a loud metallic crash, which caused most of the children to jump in surprise. The murals on the left and the right of their group had fallen forward to reveal several large cages, each of which contained a vicious looking attack dog.

Each of the dogs, upon being exposed to the relative freedom of the labyrinth, began to bark and snarl, throwing themselves at the sides of the cages in an attempt to break through the cold metal bars.

Jason's eyes widened. Whether it was instinct, or simple knowledge that came from living in Gotham, a city with some of the most psychotic super-villains in the world, he knew what was going to happen next. "Run!" He shouted, already sprinting for the far side of the room.

Half of the others followed his advice, spurred into action by the urgency in Jason's voice, while the other half remained still, looking between Jason and the dog cages in confusion. The cages opened with a dull clang that shook them out of their stupor. They'd realized what was going on.

They turned to run, but it was too late.

As one, the attack dogs leapt into action. Two of the stragglers were knocked off their feet in a blur of terrified screams, flailing limbs, and matted fur. Several dogs chased after the children who'd run off, but for the majority stayed behind and tore into the two who hadn't heeded Jason's warning in time.

The screams were terrible. Jason, running as fast as he could, spared a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of the three stragglers who'd been caught by the canines.

It wasn't pretty.

Each of them had at least two or three dogs tearing into their flesh. One boy's arm had been practically torn off by one dog, strings of bloody flesh still tenuously connecting the limb to his body. Despite the pain that the boy must have been in, he still tried to fight the dogs off, stabbing wildly with the knife he still held onto in his one remaining hand.

Since he'd run first, Jason was at the head of the fleeing group. He slowed, debating whether or not he should turn around and try and help. There were only 12 dogs, and the kids were all armed with knives. If he and the rest of the nearby kids who'd managed to escape the initial attack all worked as a group, they might be able to fight the dogs off and save the three kids who'd been left behind.

Before he could make a decision either way, a hand snatched the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him towards the doorways.

"Come on!" Lorena shouted at him, pulling Jason away from the carnage.

He resisted briefly, long enough to fully take in the scene around him. Apart from him and Lorena, 5 of the other kids were still running for the opposite end of the room. The one who'd lost his arm was no longer moving or screaming, but the dogs were still tearing his body apart.

Another boy died right in front of Jason's eyes. His screams were silenced as one of the dogs managed to close its teeth around the soft vulnerable flesh of his neck and tear his throat out.

What little resistance Jason had to the idea running for his life evaporated at that point, and he sprinted along behind Lorena as she ran towards one of the platforms.

For years, Jason had prided himself on being able to outrun anyone he couldn't outfight on Gotham's streets, but judging from how hard Lorena was having to pull on his arm in order to get him to keep up as they ran from the dogs, she could have easily left him in her dust if she wanted to.

"Hurry!" Jason urged as they reached the base of one of the the platforms. Some of the other children had reached the other platforms, and even now were trying to climb them. He understood their purpose now.

The dogs were deadly, but only if they could reach you. Given how tall the platforms were, it would be next to impossible for the dogs to reach their tops. Once he and Lorena reached the top of the platform, they'd be safe.

Lorena stared up in panic at the edge of the platform, which hung almost 5 feet above her head. She tried to jump and catch the edge, but she didn't even come close. "How do we get up there?!"

Jason contemplated the problem. He doubted that an attempt to jump and catch the edge of the platform on his part would have any appreciable difference from Lorena's attempt. He needed to figure something out quick. Already he could see some of the dogs at the far end of the room, who at this point had finished off their first victims, start charging towards them.

"Here!" Jason said, putting his back against the wall and cupping his hands. "I'll lift you up, then you can reach down and help me up."

Lorena hesitated for a split second before nodding. She put her foot in Jason's cupped hands, hand placed on top of his head in an effort to stabilize herself as he lifted her as best he could, muscles straining at the effort.

Despite their best efforts, the edge of the platform remained just beyond her grasp.

"I still can't reach it!" She told him. Lorena wanted to cry as she kept trying and failing to catch the lip of the platform. It was barely five or six inches away, but at the moment, it might as well have been five or six miles.

"Keep trying!" Jason said, voice heavy with the effort of keeping her aloft. He didn't have the strength to boost her any further. He closed his eyes and tried not to panic, focusing all of his effort on keeping her weight supported.

Unexpectedly, Lorena's weight became lighter in his hands.

Jason opened in his eyes in surprise, thinking that she had actually managed to grab the edge of the platform. Instead, he found another boy standing next to him supporting Lorena's other leg. It was the boy who'd been standing behind him in line, the one with sandy hair.

The look in his eye told Jason that he understood what they were trying to do.

Jason nodded. He motioned up towards Lorena with his head. "On three. One, two, three!"

The two boys lifted with every ounce of strength that they had, propelling Lorena high enough to grab the edge and pull herself up. She allowed herself a moment to recuperate before rotating her body so that she could reach down over the edge of the platform and help whoever was going to come up after her.

The other boy motioned for Jason to climb up next, cupping his hands in order to give him a foothold. Jason had just moved to face the wall when Lorena screamed out a warning.

"Look out!"

Jason knew what was coming, and reacted accordingly. He turned to the left, leaving his arm outstretched as he did so. The stray dog that had been chasing after them sunk its teeth into the exposed limb, making him cry out in pain. This wasn't the first time that Jason had been bitten by an attack dog. Some of the people who ran Gotham's scrapyards used dogs to scare away or attack would be scavengers.

One of the other scavengers had told Jason that the best thing to do was to give the dog your non-dominant arm, since it would just pull and tear on that instead of anything else that was more vital. It still hurt though. The dog's momentum caused him to fall backwards into the other boy, knocking them both over onto the cold stone floor.

The dog snarled down at him around his arm, wrenching its head from side to side an an effort to tear his flesh apart. For his part, Jason yelled back at it in defiance, ignoring the pain as he tried to draw his knife from its sheathe at his side.

His fingers closed around the handle of the blade and, in one swift motion, Jason pulled it free and stabbed it into the dog's exposed underside.

He'd been expecting the canine to die immediately, but it only gave the barest yipe of pain before biting down on his arm even harder. Over 300 pounds of force drove the dog's sharp teeth into the flesh of his arm.

He withdrew the blade and prepared to stab again, but the dog's thrashing body knocked the knife from his grasp, leaving him defenseless. This time, when Jason yelled, it was in pain and despair.

Fighting back against the dog's thrashing movements as best he could, Jason tried to make his way over to the fallen blade, but it was useless. The dog was just too strong, and it had the leverage it needed to keep him pinned. This was it, Jason realized. He was about to die. The dog would keep him in place until its fellows reached him, and then they would all tear him apart, just like they had the first two kids that they had caught.

Jason drew the fist of his free hand back and punched the dog on the side of the head. He didn't think it would do anything, and he was correct on that count, but he'd be damned if he let himself die without resisting until the bitter end.

Just as he drew his fist back to punch the dog again, a knife punched deep into the top of the dog's skull, twisting once quickly before it withdrew. The dog's thrashing stopped immediately, and Jason was able to extract his arm from its dead mouth, wincing as he did so. The boy whose name he still didn't know reached down and pulled Jason to his feet, pushing the retrieved knife into Jason's hand as he did so.

"Thanks." Jason said shakily.

The boy nodded in acknowledgement but kept moving, taking a position at the bottom of the platform again and urgently motioning for Jason to climb up once again.

Jason moved to comply. That dog had been one of the stray ones that had ignored the first two children and chased after them. They didn't have much time before the rest of the dogs arrived.

The other boy lifted Jason easily, allowing Lorena to reach down and pull him up.

The dogs were almost on top of the other boy at that point. The other boy quickly stepped away from the wall in order to give himself some room to build up speed before running at the wall as fast as he could, dogs snapping at his heels as he did.

Just before he reached the wall, the boy jumped, planting his foot as high as he could and kicking off the wall. The motion propelled him just a few inches higher, but that was all he needed in order to reach Jason and Lorena's outstretched hands.

As soon as he caught the boy, Jason knew why he'd been so insistent that Jason went first. There was no way Lorena would have been able to lift him up on her own. Working in tandem, Lorena and Jason were able to lift the boy up high enough that he could catch the ledge on his own and pull himself up,

"Are you guys alright?" Lorena asked the both of them over dogs barking up at them from the base of the platform.

Both Jason and the other boy nodded breathlessly. Now that they were relatively safe, the adrenaline from their close brush with death began to wear off, and a profound sense of exhaustion washed over all of them.

All the other kids had managed to climb to the top of their respective platforms. Apart from Jason, Lorena and the other boy, there were four other survivors in view. Jason didn't bother calling out to them, and neither did they. There was no way they'd be able to reach each other now, not with the dogs still swarming around this section of the labyrinth.

They were all on their own.

Jason stifled a grown as he pulled up his sleeve in order to inspect the damage the dog's teeth had done.

"Is your arm ok?" Lorena asked.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt that bad." He lied, pressing his hoodie back over the wound in order to staunch the bleeding as best he could. He'd taken worse, over the years. That being said, the dogs that he'd run into in Gotham's scrapyards were pussycats compared to the ones that the Court had set loose on them.

Jason turned to face the other boy, hand still pressed to the wound on his arm. "Thanks for saving my butt back there." He said, earnestly.

Once again, the boy replied wordlessly, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

Jason frowned. "Can you speak?"

The boy shook his head and then lifted his chin, exposing a long scar across his throat. Lorena gasped, while Jason let out a long slow breath. The scar looked deep. The other boy was lucky to be alive.

"Uh, well, anyway, thanks." Jason said after a moment.

The boy nodded again and sat back, content to just sit and breathe after his brush with death. After briefly examining the tunnel entrance in order to make sure that there weren't any lurking surprises in store, Jason was content to do the same, relaxing his muscles despite the ever present sound of dogs barking up at them.

For the moment, they were safe.

Whatever that meant in this death trap of a labyrinth.

—

"Impressive." The Grandmaster said to himself as he watched the last of the aspirants reach the end of the first portion of the labyrinth. Of the 50 that had begun the trials at the start of the evening, 11 had died.

Those were good numbers.

The average number of deaths for the first trial was usually around 15 or so. After the first trial, the number of deaths tended to drop for every subsequent trial. The Grandmaster chalked it up to the fact that the children didn't really appreciate the Court's warnings up until they'd seen for themselves that death was certainly an option here.

It unusual, but not uncommon, for no aspirants to make it to the end of the labyrinth. One, particularly bad year, the dogs had killed 37 of the aspirants, leaving only 13 to face the rest of the labyrinth's trials. None of them had made it.

Such deaths were always regrettable, but also necessary.

The labyrinth was a test designed to push each aspirant to his or her breaking point, allowing the Court to see their true character and worth. It was only armed with this information that the Court would be able know which flaws to correct and which strengths to emphasize.

Even now, in the control room, the footage of the first trial would now be under review by Raptor and the other Talons who served as trainers here. They would examine each of the aspirant's movements and reactions, tailoring the trials to any deficiencies that they found accordingly.

Survival of the fittest, as it was.

It was only through the trials that the Court was able to rebuild each Talon in both body and soul, to serve faithfully and well.

The Grandmaster turned and waded back into the party, humming to himself and drinking his champagne as he did so. Watching the trials never failed to put him in a good mood.

He couldn't wait to see what happened next.


	4. With Which to Eat

**_The Labyrinth_**

 ** _Day Zero_**

 ** _Location Unknown_**

 ** _Time Unknown_**

He had meat. That was all that mattered.

He tore into it with wild abandon, tearing it apart with his teeth and bare hands, swallowing bloody mouthfuls of it as quickly as he could in order to satiate the hunger he felt gnawing inside of him. It had been days since he'd last eaten, and he didn't know when he'd be able to get more meat.

There had been a time, what seemed like eons ago, where he'd been above all of this. Once, he'd been Edmond Saracin, proud scion of a banking family in Brazil that had been members of the Court of Owls since its inception hundreds of years ago. He himself had risen to become a member of Parliament, the Court's ruling body that was answerable only to the Grandmaster himself. Wealth. Power. Status. He'd had it all.

And yet, he wanted more.

He'd tried to siphon off funds from the Court's projects and direct them towards his own ends. He'd thought his status as a member of Parliament would protect him. He'd been wrong. He'd been caught within months and taken into custody by the Talonmaster himself.

With the Grandmaster presiding over the trial, his sentencing had been quick, the verdict clear from the start. Execution. But not a quick, clean death. No, that would have been too merciful. The Court was many things, but merciful? Never. His death was to be slow, drawn out, a warning to any member of the Court who thought to use its resources towards their own selfish ends. They'd thrown him into the Labyrinth as soon as the Grandmaster had finished reading the sentence.

Those first weeks had been tough, at first. Water was relatively plentiful, with several channels and pools fed by an artificial stream the Court had built into the Labyrinth, but food was scarce. The only thing that had kept him alive was the fact that he'd sometimes manage to stumble across one of the wild animals that the Talons populated the Labyrinth with, kill it, and eat it.

Rats mostly. A dog every now and then. He remembered how much he'd hated the taste and texture of the stringy meat that he scavenged from those animals at first. Now, they were luxuries that he would kill for. Had killed for.

He wasn't alone down here. The Court had been throwing its condemned prisoners into the Labyrinth rather than taking the effort to kill them outright for years. The net result was the same, and in the end, those prisoners often proved useful in testing the skills of new aspirants.

His fellow prisoners were little more than animals, fighting and killing each other for everything.

Water. Territory. Simple bloodlust.

But above all, they killed each other for meat.

He'd already stripped most of the flesh off the bone in front of him. With practiced efficiency, he broke the femur apart, snapping it in half so that he could get at the juicy marrow within.

Strange, to remember the time before all this, the time before he'd been forced to eat meat to survive. He remembered being horrified the first time he'd seen another prisoner eating it, all those nights ago. The man looked completely feral, his hair hanging in matted clumps and his skeletal flesh covered in infected cuts. He'd watched in stupefied silence as the wiry man gnawed directly on the flesh of one of their fellows who had been killed recently by one of the many traps scattered throughout their prison.

Upon seeing realizing that he was being watched, the man had attacked him attempting to kill the intruder and add more meat to his stockpile in the process.

At that point, tt had only been a few days since he'd been thrown into the Labyrinth, and the resulting the disparity in their relative strengths had made the fight laughably easy. That had been the first time he'd been forced to kill a man, breaking his skull in with a rock that had been within arms reach.

It hadn't been the last.

He remembered thinking once, when he'd watched the Trials via remote relay as a member of the Court, that the men in the Labyrinth were barely human, little more than animals.

He remembered, when he'd been thrown in, promising himself that he would never stoop to their level to survive. Endless days and nights of hunger had made a lie of that promise.

He remembered weeping, the first time he'd been been forced to eat meat. He'd killed four of his fellow prisoners at that point, each in self-defense, but had never scavenged their bodies for the meat they contained, as his opponents would have had they been victorious. But he hadn't eaten for so long, and the flesh was still warm…

At first, he only ate the parts that he could bear to eat. Arms and legs were one thing, but he left the heart and brains and eyes alone. That was the first night in weeks that he'd slept with a full stomach.

That had been long ago. Now, he was little more than an animal himself, prowling around in the shadows, killing anyone and anything he found. After all, that was how one acquired meat in the Labyrinth. He'd fed on the flesh of his own species dozens of times now. That was how one stayed alive, here, in this place. He savored the meat, enjoying the sensation of chewing and swallowing food for the first time in days.

The fact that it had once been a child, barely older than 10 or 12 years old, had been irrelevant.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Edmond knew that the child had been an aspirant, one of the lucky few that had been chosen to prove his worth to the Court. The fact that he'd been caught and torn limb from limb and eaten by a group of his fellow prisoners merely meant that he'd been unworthy.

In the ensuing fight over the body, he'd managed to grab an entire thigh and rip it free from his fellow captives scrabbling hands. He'd grabbed it and bolted through the familiar confines of the maze for the outer edges, desperate to eat the meat in relative safety and peace.

Briefly, as he sucked the last of the marrow clean from the femur bone he held, Edmond wondered if he'd recognize himself if he looked in the mirror.

The thought left his mind as a hushed whisper reached his ears, instantly putting him on alert. He tossed the bones that he'd been gnawing aside, climbing up a stalagmite in order to hide.

More meat was coming.

—

It took Jason and his two companions more than a few minutes to recover from their close brush with death, and the other boy took the opportunity to try and "converse" with his companions. Limited as he was by his severed vocal cords, he tried to convey information to Jason and Lorena through pantomime, but when that failed, he'd settled for tracing out words and letters out in in the gravel that covered the ground.

That was how Jason learned that the other boys name was Joseph. He'd run away from home with his brother in Central City and lived on the streets for a couple months before being kidnapped by the Court, though as far as he could tell, his brother wasn't here.

Jason suspected that Joseph was trying to bond with his two companions out of fear that they'd abandon him, but Jason couldn't blame him. He made an effort to engage as well, telling both Lorena and his mute companion about how he'd ran away from home and ended up on Gotham's streets.

Lorena shared her story last. She turned out to be from Belize, which explained her slightly accented English. In contrast to her two male companions, she hadn't been living on the streets. She was actually the oldest of three sisters, all of whom lived with their mother. As the oldest, she'd been doing odd jobs around towns in order to help support her family.

As far as they all could tell, the only thing that connected them was their ages, and the fact that the Court of Owls had taken an interest in them for some reason. It was a mystery to ponder another time, when they got out of there.

If they got out of here.

"What do we do now?" Lorena asked, clearly starting to think along the same lines as Jason.

For his part, Joseph gestured down towards the tunnel, away from the room they'd entered the Court's labyrinth from. Jason understood the meaning of the motion immediately.

"Joseph's right. We can't go back." Jason said. "That Talon told us that the only way we're getting out of here alive is by making it to that fountain.

He pushed himself to his feet, and his two companions followed suit. "Let's go." he said. He took two steps forward before pausing as a thought occurred to him. "Keep your eyes open." he added a moment later. Joseph and Lorena both nodded, though the Jason's warning was slightly redundant: they were both just as wary of traps as he was.

They walked through passageways and seemingly natural caverns that led away from the Labyrinth's entrance, pausing every now and then when one of them thought they heard or saw something suspicious.

The Labyrinth was unlike anything they'd ever seen before, equal parts natural cave and carved stone passageway. Each room held at least 5 or 6 paths, each leading in different directions. Some paths were illuminated with torches, others were pitch black. Some were completely enclosed, others had openings that let them see beyond the confines of their stone prison. It was too dark to see much, but Jason couldn't help but feel that the Labyrinth was huge.

Using Lorena's knife, Jason carved small X's into the walls of the passages that they'd come through in an effort to stop them from getting disoriented. It was a skill that he'd picked up from living in the sewers.

After long hours of walking, Jason and the others found themselves in a large cavern. Teeth-like stalactites and stalagmites protruded from the floor and ceiling. Pools of water on the cobblestone floor reflected the wavering light from torches on the walls. It was mostly unremarkable, not significantly different from several of the other rooms that they'd gone through.

Jason was just about to say that they should move on when something *crunched* under Joseph's foot. All three of them paused in mid step at the sound, which was startlingly loud in the silence of the cavern.

"What was that?" Lorena asked, peering through the darkness at Joseph as he moved his foot and reached down to grab whatever it was that he'd stepped on. Lorena gasped as she caught sight of what he held in his hands.

Jason moved to get a closer look, and Joseph held the object out so that he could see it better. His face paled. Even in the cavern's sparse light, the object was clearly recognizable.

A human bone.

—

The meat was close. Oh so close. He could practically smell it. His mouth was watering already.

Despite having already eaten, he was still hungry. Always hungry. But soon he would fight. Soon he would kill.

And then there would be more meat.

—

It was clearly a hipbone, and judging from its size, it had come from someone roughly the same age as they were. Another one of their fellow captives, most likely. Teeth marks were visible on the broken edges of the bone, from where they'd been gnawed on to get the last traces of fat.

Strings of cartilage and sinew still hung from where the bone would have been connected to the hip of its former owner.

"What did this?" Jason breathed in disbelief, taking the bone from Joseph into his own hands to examine it more closely. Lorena didn't respond, and Joseph couldn't. Both of their faces displayed obvious horror.

Jason had just opened his mouth to comment on their grisly find once more when a rock came out of nowhere, colliding with the side of Lorena's head. She toppled to the ground bonelessly.

Something started screaming at them, launching itself towards them from the top of stalagmite.

"Look out!" Jason yelled, dropping the bone and grabbing Joseph by the back of his shirt and pulling him out of the thing's trajectory. There was a brief instant where the shadowy mass attacking them caught an errant beam of light, and Jason could see what exactly was attacking them.

The man, if he could even be called that any more, was like a beast: shaggy, matted hair, skin so dirty that Jason couldn't guess what color it had been before his imprisonment imprisonment, eyes filled with a madman's glee.

The only thing that saved Joseph from having his head being crushed in with a rock was Jason's quick reaction. The force of his pull made his silent comrade fall backwards, out of the arc of the man's swing. Undeterred, the man charged as soon as he landed, pitching the fist-sized rock he held in his hands as he did so.

Jason ducked to avoid the makeshift projectile, but unknowingly left himself open to a push kick to the sternum from their feral attacker, knocking him off of his feet. He landed on his back several yards away.

Joseph was still in the process of getting back up to his feet when the feral man kicked him full in the face. From his position on the floor, Jason caught sight of a tooth that had been knocked loose from the kick flying off into the darkness of the cave. Joseph laid sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

Jason pushed himself back to his feet quickly, before the feral man could do the same to him. He was on his own, at least for the next few moments. He charged instantly; the feral man screamed once more and charged at him too.

As he ran, Jason scooped up a handful of gravel with one hand. If he wanted to survive, a fair fight was out of the question.

He needed to cheat.

Right as they were about to collide, Jason flung his handful of gravel, hoping to blind the man and give himself an opening to strike. The man brought his arm up to protect his eyes, wise to the trick, but Jason took advantage of the blind spot and side-stepped, kicking his opponent in the shin as hard as he could as he went past.

The feral man stumbled, caught off balance by the sneaky blow, and he fell. Jason was on him scant heartbeats later, not giving him a chance to recover. Jason had to keep the feral man off balance; if he let his opponent bring his superior reach and experience into play, he'd be dead.

Jason kicked at the man's head and ribs and stomped at the man's joints, hoping to cause enough damage to incapacitate the feral man and prevent him from rising to the attack again. Again the feral man countered, rolling away from most of the blows and protecting his vital parts, then accepting the blows on his forearms and shins as he pushed himself back onto his feet. Before the feral man could fully get his feet underneath him, Jason tackled him, knocking them both down onto the rocky ground.

The feral man was fearsome, but deceptively skinny from periods of prolonged malnutrition and starvation. Jason thought that he'd be able to win in a fight that required some grappling.

He realized his mistake as soon as he made it. The feral man was skinny, yes, but his time in the Labyrinth had given him the desperate strength that only a maniac could achieve. He controlled the fall as they tumbled, allowing himself to reverse their positions and clamber on top of Jason.

Jason tried to struggle free, but the position he was in gave him no leverage to escape. Bony fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting off the air to his lungs and blood to his brain. His vision began to gray out almost instantly.

"Wanttt to eeeeeat yyyyyyour eyessss…" the man slurred through a mouthful of drool, looking down at Jason with anticipatory glee. With terror that was only partially muted by the lack of blood to his brain, Jason realized that he'd just discovered what had happened to the owner of the bone they'd found scant moments ago.

He thrashed and tried to get a solid grip on the feral man's arms, but his flesh was slick and muddy with years of filth and sweat, and his opponents stranglehold was too strong. Jason's strength and ability to control his thrashing limbs was fading with each passing second.

His vision greyed out completely. He could see the feral man's move as he spoke, but Jason could hear nothing beyond the rapid thumps of his heartbeat and his own strangled gasps for air.

This was it, Jason realized. He was about to die. He was going to die here, and then this madman was going to kill his friends, and then he was going to eat their bodies, and there was nothing he could do about it.

—

Edmond smiled in delight as the meat's eyes fluttered with impending unconsciousness. He was no Talon, but years of surviving in the Labyrinth had made this fight seem incredibly easy.

Two down. One to go.

He laughed as the meat scrabbled feebly at his wrists, fighting the inevitable. In a way, beyond the sheer utility of getting more meat, Edmond viewed killing this meat and his companions as a gesture of mercy. By killing them, he would be sparing them years of crippling pain and suffering and hardship.

Still, he wasn't cruel. He wouldn't make this meat's death needlessly painful. He squeezed his fingers tighter, hoping to hasten his young captive's demise.

He roared in triumph. Soon, the meat and his companions would be dead. Soon, he would have more meat to feast upon. Soon, he would-

His roar of triumph turned into a roar of pain as something sharp sliced into his back.

—

With the last of his strength fading, and just as he was about to fall into unconsciousness, Jason suddenly found that the fingers around his throat had loosened. The full spectrum came roaring back to him as he took in a gasping breath.

The first thing he noticed was the noise. The feral man was roaring at the top of his lungs. Between the darkness of the cavern and his disorientation, it took Jason a few moments to realize that his attacker was currently fighting two indistinct figures. A knife protruded from his back, driven hilt deep into the flesh between his left shoulder blade and spine.

At first, Jason thought that his two companions had come to his aid, but then he caught sight of Joseph's form still sprawled out on the floor and realized that he'd been rescued by two other aspirants. They were two boys who he didn't recognize. The knife that was currently buried in the feral man's back must have belonged to one of them

The feral man swung wildly with one arm, trying to catch the two other aspirants with a lucky blow and then beat them to death while they were disoriented. With the other arm, he reached behind himself, vainly trying to catch the hilt of the knife in his back and pull it out to use as a weapon.

Even wounded, the feral man was still a fearsome opponent. Neither of Jason's rescuers tried to attack him again, concentrating instead on keeping their distance. Jason knew he needed to help them. The feral man had taken him, Joseph and Lorena down with two rocks. If he managed to get his hands on a knife, then they'd all be dead.

At least, that's what Jason thought, until he caught a flash of movement from another stalagmite. He peered into the shadows and realized that there was another fellow aspirant there, hiding.

Jason realized that his rescuers weren't retreating, they were luring the feral man into a position where they could launch an ambush of their own.

Their strategy worked. Slowly, keeping the feral man at bay with the one knife they still had, his two rescuers drew him back into the stalagmite's shadow. With a cry, the boy hidden on top of the stalagmite jumped, knife held downwards as he threw himself down at the feral man.

The feral man's instincts were good. He was already in the motion of jumping backwards when the boy fell on him. Because of the change in position, the knife sank into the feral man's throat rather than his eye, as his ambusher had intended. The feral man toppled backwards with a wet gurgle, but he still had the sheer strength of will to smack his killer across the face as he fell, knocking him away, though the knife still remained embedded in his throat.

Jason's two rescuers who had been luring the feral man forward charged. The unarmed boy, who had lost his knife in the first attack, dove onto the feral man's arms, keeping them from reaching the knife in his throat. The one who still had his knife dove forward too, stabbing the feral man in the torso.

Once, twice, again and again, the boy drove his knife into the feral man's flesh. The feral man flailed at first, attempting to defend himself but as the boy continued to stab, slowly but surely, his struggles ceased.

It was only once the feral man had fallen still that the two boy stood up, their clothes drenched in the feral man's blood. Their companion who had launched the surprise attack walked up and retrieved his knife, wiping the blood off it using his shirt and returning the blade to the sheathe tied to his pants.

He made his way over to Jason and offered his hand. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah." Jason said. At least, he tried to. The only sound that emanated from his throat was a dull croak, which sent him into a fit of violent coughing.

"Easy. Just breathe." The boy said, helping Jason to stand up straight. "My name is Chris." the boy said. There was an accent to his english that Jason couldn't place, though it sounded English. He pointed at the two boys that had saved Jason's life, who were in the process of attempting to roll the body over so that they could retrieve the third knife embedded in its back. "That's James, and that's my brother Sean."

Jason nodded in reply, still coughing as he did so. With Chris' help, he made his way over to his two fallen companions, hoping that they were still alive.

Lorena's head was bleeding profusely from a gash caused by the thrown rock, and Joseph was missing a few teeth, but they were alive. Unconscious, but still alive.

"How long have you three been together?" Chris asked as Jason roused his friends. At that point, he'd managed to regain the use of his vocal chords.

"Not long." Jason said hoarsely. "We only met a couple of hours ago. We got dumped in here together as a group."

"Do you know where the fountain is?" James asked hopefully.

Jason shook his head. "No idea. We were just trying to keep track of where we'd been. This place is a maze."

"Aye." Sean agreed. ""We've been wandering these bloody tunnels for hours, but then we found some markings on the walls that we decided to follow."

"That was us." Jason said, gesturing at his two companions, who were slowly regaining consciousness. "We wanted to keep track of the tunnels that we've been through."

"Smart."

"Jason?" Lorena groaned, wincing as she sat up. "What happened?"

"We got ambushed." Jason said.

It took her a few moments to process his words, still clearly dazed by the blow she had taken. "By what?"

In response, Jason merely pointed at the feral man's body. An ever growing pool of blood was forming on the bare rock floor of the cavern.

"You and your friends rest here a while." Chris told Jason. "I don't think you lot are in any shape to be wandering around."

Jason, looking at Lorena's blank stare and Joseph's still unconscious form, was forced to agree. If something else decided to choose that moment to attack them, he'd be the only one of their original trio who could still put up a fight, and the way he felt, it wouldn't be much of one.

"Sean, you stay here," Chris said to his brother, taking charge of the situation. "Keep an eye out. Me and James'll look around a bit, make sure there aren't more like him around." He gestured at the feral man's corpse.

"Thanks." Jason said. He was too overwhelmed by everything to feel much sympathy at the passing of a crazy cannibal who had almost killed him.

Chris nodded in sympathy. "We're all in this together brother."

—

"Don't." Edmond wanted to say, as he watched two of his killers venture further into the Labyrinth. He knew he was dead, it was just taking a while for his body to catch up. "Don't."

He wanted to warn the meat about the perils that lay ahead. He was an animal, yes, but deeper in the Labyrinth… his body gave an involuntary shudder that had nothing to do with his impending death as he remembered what he'd seen in the Labyrinth's interior.

Deeper in the Labyrinth, there were true monsters.

"Don't." He tried to force the words from the bloody ruin of his throat, but all that came out was a wet gurgle. Noticing the noise, the meat that he'd almost killed came over. The meat looked into his eyes.

"Don't." Edmond tried to say again, but it was too late. He died.

And meat was all that was left.


	5. Meanwhile, Back in Gotham

**Gotham City,**

 **January 13th, 2012**

 **21:22 EST**

 **Team Year One**

"Jim." Batman said in greeting as he stepped out of the shadows on the roof of the GCPD building.

Commissioner Gordon jumped in surprise, almost swallowing his pipe as he drew in the breath he needed to shout. "Jesus Christ!" The commissioner spluttered. He stopped for a moment, trying to get his rapidly beating heart under control. "Someone needs to put a bell on you two."

"Sorry." Robin said earnestly, following Batman out of the shadows. If Barbara ever found out his secret identity, she'd never let him hear the end of it. Doubly so if he and Batman accidentally scared her father to death.

"Hrm…" Gordon grumbled, picking his pipe off the floor from where it had fallen and wiping it on his sleeve. "Well, anyway, thanks for coming."

Batman nodded. "What do you have for us?"

Commissioner Gordon removed a manila folder from under his arm and pulled out a picture. "Do you know this kid?" he asked, passing the photo over to Batman. Batman examined the picture for a moment before handing it to Robin.

Robin's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the boy in the photo. "Yeah. Jason Todd. We dropped him off at the CHS about a week ago."

"That explains this then." Commissioner Gordon pulled a scrap of paper from the folder. Robin recognized it as the note that he'd left behind when he'd retrieved Jason's belonging from the sewer tunnels, signed with his signature "R" emblem.

"Did something happen to him?" Robin asked, concerned.

"We're not sure yet." Gordon admitted. "We got a call from the school telling us that he'd disappeared five days ago. No evidence of foul play. The official conclusion is that he just ran away."

Commissioner Gordon sighed, clearly weighed down with the the thought of a 12 year old trying to survive on Gotham's streets in the middle of winter. "It happens every now and then. Some kids can't get used to the adjustment when they're brought in off the streets. We're still keeping an eye out for him, but since you know the kid I thought you'd want a heads up. I copied the official report onto this for you."

He held out a USB drive to Batman, who plugged it into his vambrace mounted computer and copied the contents to his suit's computer systems. Thanks to the way the systems of their suits had been programmed, a copy of the files was automatically shared Robin's suit computer as well.

Both vigilantes skimmed the files for a few seconds, noting both the gaps and potentially significant details.

Robin made eye contact with Batman and nodded slightly when he was done. His mentor returned the nod.

"Thanks Jim." Batman started to move towards the rooftop's edge. "We'll look into it."

The caped crusader launched his grapnel at a nearby building and swung off into the night. Commissioner Gordon, long since used to Batman's terse exits, exchanged a quick wave with Robin before he turned to head back inside.

"What do you think?" Batman asked Robin, once the boy wonder had swung out after him. Both vigilantes ran at a quick but steady pace as they made their way across the rooftops and ledges of Gotham's skyline.

Only someone who knew Batman well would have caught the undercurrent of tension in his voice that signaled his concern with the situation. Robin felt that tension as well, though in him it manifested itself as a frown as his mind ran through the possibilities.

It was certainly plausible that Jason had run off on his own; even from their brief meeting, Robin had glimpsed the 12 year old's fierce independent streak. As the commissioner had said, it wasn't unusual for independent kids to strike out on their own rather than deal with the unpredictability of Gotham's notoriously inefficient Child Protection Services.

But the police report had mentioned that the officers who'd examined Jason's room at the CHS once the school had filed its report had mentioned that they'd found a bag full of various odds and ends left behind on the bed. The same one Jason had specifically asked Robin to bring to him because of its sentimental value.

Even without the bag though, Robin had gotten the impression from their brief meeting that Jason was both smart and sincere. He didn't seem like the kind of kid who'd renege on the promise that he'd made Batman.

"Something feels off." Robin concluded. "I mean, it's possible that he ran away, but why would he leave his stuff behind if he was planning to run? It doesn't make sense."

"Agreed." Batman said, tapping a button on his vambrace. "I've called in a batwing. Let's get over to the school and see if we can find anything."

Neither member of the dynamic duo knew it, but as they made their over the rooftops and swung through the streets that comprised Gotham's skyline, they passed within a few blocks of the man who was behind the disappearance of the very boy whose disappearance they were investigating.

Of course, to call him a man anymore wasn't entirely accurate, as the enhancements he'd undergone and the training he'd received from his benefactors meant that his body bore only a passing resemblance to the normal human baseline, but it was still the closest term that applied.

He stood on top of one of the many gargoyles that adorned Gotham's skyline, unmoving as he observed the so-called heroes move towards their rendezvous with their plane. Clad as he was in his combat armor and ceremonial mask, to a casual observer, he would have appeared to be part of the statue he was standing on.

To his targets, he would have been death incarnate, a nightmare given form, the last thing they saw before their lives ended.

To the Court of Owls, he was a Talon.

It was standard practice to leave a Talon behind in each city that an aspirant had been acquired from, just to make sure that the Court's actions hadn't been noticed. Owing to the skill of the Talons involved in the abductions, the few times anyone chose to investigate the disappearance of the children in question, those investigations never got past their preliminary stages before falling apart from a lack of evidence.

However, as the events of the last few minutes were showing, it always paid to keep track.

Even as the Talon watched the Batwing arrive, hovering with remarkable quiet over downtown Gotham, he keyed a button built into his mask, opening up a comms channel back to the Court's headquarters.

"Report." A voice crackled through the open channel.

"Inform the Talonmaster." The Talon replied, watching as Batman and Robin climbed into the plane's cockpit. "We have a problem."

* * *

 **Moments Later,**

 **Parliament Grove**

 _He is a child, standing over a dying man, a makeshift blade held in his hand.  
_ _The child expects fear, but now that the deed is done, all he feels is relief. He has avenged his mother, killed the man who raped and then beat her to death while the boy was forced to hide. The man dies. The child smiles. Such is the way of life on Santa Prisca.  
_ _It is the first time he has taken a life.  
_ _It will not be his last._

 _He is a boy, standing over another dead body.  
_ _This corpse is not like the first. This corpse is the same age as the boy, and in its last moments it had struggled with all its strength, trying to kill him just as he tried to kill it.  
_ _The boy turns his back on the corpse and drops his weapon. The owl-marked knife falls to the ground with a clatter that echoes off the stone walls.  
_ _He cups his hands and dips them into the cool water of the fountain, raising the precious fluid to his cracked lips and drinking deeply.  
_ _The faint metallic tang of the dried blood running off of his hands fills his mouth, but he does not care. He has done it. Amongst his fellow aspirants, he alone has made it to the fountain.  
_ _He alone is worthy of the life they offer.  
_ _The Talons come to him, unmasked. Their eyes are black, their dark armor intimidating.  
_ " _Aspirant," they say. "You have survived the trial of the labyrinth."  
_ " _Well done."_

 _He is boy, being cut open on a surgical table.  
_ _His heart beats visibly in his splayed open chest as the finest surgeons that the Court can recruit go about their work, altering the boy's mortal form far beyond the normal baseline.  
_ _New hormones are injected into the boy's glands to develop and strengthen his muscles.  
_ _His bones are layered with compounds that will render them resistant to breaking.  
_ _His eyes are carefully cut free from his skull, and genetically spliced substitutes are reconnected in their place.  
_ _The surgeon's works are untroubled by the thrashing and screaming that would normally ensue from such an operation by a paralytic agent administered directly to the boy's nervous system.  
_ _No anesthetic has been provided; Talons must be prepared to deal with pain in all its forms.  
_ _Underneath the agonizing pain that he feels, the boy is grateful to be there.  
_ _Through their work, the boy knows he will become something more than the street rat that a random accident of birth dictated he would be.  
_ _Through the Court's work, he will become an instrument of change for the dream of a better world.  
_

 _He is a young man, wearing the armor of a Talon.  
_ _The Grandmaster stands facing him, the two of them standing alone on a stone stage. Other members of the Court stand arrayed, faces masked, on elevated viewing galleries looking down upon them.  
_ " _As you are all aware," The Grandmaster says to the assembled members of the Court, "we are witnesses today, as we have been witnesses on countless previous days. We come together to see the placing of the mask."  
_ _The Grandmaster holds the mask of a Talon out towards him. "We ask now if the subject is willing to accept the covenant."  
_ _The young man takes the mask in reverent hands, and looks upon his new face with pride. Through these lenses, he will hunt the Court's enemies. Through this mask, he will scream his righteous fury at those who dare defy the Court's will.  
_ " _I am willing." He says.  
_ _The Grandmaster nods, though the answer was never in doubt. "We are honored by your service. By what name shall you bring death to our enemies?"  
_ _The young man dons the mask, replacing the youthful features of his face with a visage that will strike fear into the hearts of the Court's foes.  
_ " _I am-"_

"-Raptor." The Grandmaster said to him in greeting, bringing the Talonmaster out of his reverie.

The Talonmaster had always looked back towards his own trial with a certain nostalgia. Given that it was currently his duty to monitor the trials, he'd allowed himself to reminisce on his own experiences as an aspirant as he'd made his way up towards the Grandmaster's office.

Much like the organization that had built it, the complex that served as the Court's hidden retreat was hierarchical. The labyrinth was at the very bottom of the hollowed out mountain complex, while the Grandmaster's office was at the very top. Upon receiving his subordinate's report from Gotham, Raptor had left the Labyrinth's control room hurriedly, taking a lift up through the floors that contained the training and surgical facilities used to prepare new Talons.

"How goes the Trial?" The Grandmaster asked curiously as Raptor made his way through the well decorated interior of the Grandmaster's inner sanctum. A large crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling provided illumination, and the pillars and floors were hewn out of Italian marble. Every fixture and furnishing was befitting of the leader of one of the most powerful secret organizations in the world.

"It continues as scheduled, Grandmaster." Raptor answered, head bowed as he approached the Court's undisputed leader. It had been 5 days since the Trial of the Labyrinth had begun. Of the 43 children who had survived the initial attack at the Trial's start, a further 16 had fallen to traps and other adversaries in the last few days. "But there is an item I must bring to your attention."

"Oh?"

Raptor stepped forward and handed a surveillance report to him. "It would appear that this year's tithe has been noticed."

The Grandmaster was silent as he opened the report, scanning through its contents and flipping through the photos, studying each one intently. They each were taken from the same angle, and showed the same three figures on the GCPD's roof.

"The famous Batman and Robin." The Grandmaster sighed. "How curious… and vexing."

The Grandmaster flipped through the photos once more before putting the report on his desk, making sure it was square with the other papers on the clean surface before leaning back in his chair and pondering the present situation.

Above all else, the Court valued its secrecy. More than a few lives had been cut short over the years in order to ensure the Court could continue its work in the shadows, free from the interference of the unenlightened.

If there was any risk that the Batman might learn of their existence, any at all, then he needed to be eliminated. Quickly. Quietly.

Fortunately, it was for situations just like this that the Talons had been created.

Raptor stood at attention, ready to act. "Your orders?"

"How many Talons are currently in the vicinity of Gotham City?" The Grandmaster asked.

"7." Raptor replied instantly.

"Assemble all of them." The Grandmaster said,. "They are to eliminate these so called heroes. Use any assets that you need to. Remove all trace of our presence from Gotham."

Raptor pounded his chest with his fist in salute. The judgement had been declared. He had his orders.

"By your command."


	6. Out of the Frying Pan

_**The Labyrinth**_

 _ **Location Unknown**_

 _ **Time Unknown**_

"Any sign of them?" Jason huffed, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath after their latest mad dash through the tunnels. The rest of his companions stood in a loose cluster around him, each of them just as breathless and exhausted as he was.

"No." James managed to reply through ragged gasps. "I think we lost them."

If Jason hadn't been preoccupied with trying to breathe, he would have sighed in relief. How long had it been since their group had last managed to find a quiet area to try and snatch a few fitful moments of sleep? Hours? Days?

Weeks, for all he knew. The time between when he'd been forced into the Labyrinth and now was all one long blur in his memory, equally punctuated by moments of horror, misery, and anger.

He had no way of knowing long it had been since he'd been dropped in the Labyrinth, just as he had no idea where they were or where they were going; they'd stopped carving markers into the walls of the tunnels that they'd traversed a while ago.

The markings had let them track their progress, yes, but it had also left a trail for any of the Labyrinth's more… aggressive inhabitants to follow.

It turned out the feral man hadn't been the Labyrinth's sole occupant: there were dozens more like him, some working as individuals, some working together in roving packs. Just like the feral man, they had chased and attacked Jason's motley group on sight, intent on consuming them just as they'd consumed several other of the aspirants who'd had the misfortune of falling to them.

They were being hunted, that much was clear. Even without leaving such an obvious trail, they'd already been found and attacked three or four times in the last few days. Thankfully, they'd manage to fight their way free every time so far, but their luck couldn't last.

Jason knew their time in the Labyrinth was taking its toll; he could see it every time they were forced to run for their lives. They couldn't run as far, or as fast, or as long, and they were forced to rest longer each time before they could move again.

Even as he caught his breath, Jason lifted his head and swept his gaze over every nook and cranny visible from his position, checking their surroundings both for potential threats, and for anything that he might be able to kill and eat. As they recovered from their latest forced retreat, Jason's companions did the same. The last thing they'd eaten within the last day or two had been a few mouthfuls of meat from a snake that Lorena had managed to kill before it bit her.

Lacking any way of making a fire in the Labyrinth's confines, they'd been forced to eat it raw.

At least they were all used to the aching pangs of hunger that came from having an empty stomach. Not finding anything that they could eat, the group made their way to a slightly out of the way section of the passage, a spot that let them both hide and keep an eye on their surroundings, and allowed themselves to collapse.

"I can't take much more of this." James breathed, slumping down and cradling his head in his hands. His arms were decorated with bite marks from one ambush where their assailants had started gnawing on them before he could break free and escape.

Looking at them, Jason felt a twinge of sympathetic pain in his own arm from the dog bite he'd sustained at the start of the trial.

He opened his mouth to try and say something reassuring, but Sean spoke up before he could.

"Quit your whining." Sean snapped from where he'd been sitting with his back against the wall. His tone was colored with irritation.

Jason closed his mouth, frowning, unsure of how to handle the situation. He couldn't really say that he knew his fellow captives that well; what little conversation they'd had about their pasts had stopped days ago. However, personal feelings aside, he knew they all recognized that if they didn't work together, they would all most likely be killed.

He'd gotten along with Sean at first, but now, days of hunger and sleeplessness had turned his companion irritable. Luckily, Chris took that moment to step in.

"Stop." Sean's brother said, tired. "We all need to rest. Yelling at him isn't going to change anything."

Sean was silent for a few moments. "Fine." He said, grudgingly. He turned to look at James. "I'm sorry." The words were forced, but the tone was sincere. James nodded in acknowledgement, too tired to do anything else.

"Whose turn is it to keep watch?" Lorena asked.

Joseph raised a weary hand in reply. He made to get up and move towards the edge of the group where he could keep watch, but Chris stopped him with a hand to the shoulder.

"Sean," Chris said, "since you've got so much energy, you take the first watch." Jason watched as the two brothers made eye contact; no words were exchanged, but their stares spoke volumes. It was Sean who broke eye contact first.

HIs face was mutinous, but silently, he got to his feet and moved off to the edge of the group.

Jason scooted over to where Chris was starting to lie down, checking to make sure that Sean was out of earshot. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Tensions had been running high between the two brothers for a while now. Whenever Sean lashed out at one of his fellow captives, Chris was there to clamp down on him. Hard. It had already almost come to blows more than once.

Chris brushed Jason's concerns away with a wave of his hand. "It's fine." He said, unconcerned. "Sean means well, but he's always been a stubborn bastard. Don't worry, I can handle him."

"If you say so." Jason muttered. Chris gave no sign that he'd heard Jason's words; he was already rolling over onto his side, propping his arm under his head to use as a pillow so that he could sleep on the cold stone floor.

He checked on both James and Joseph quickly before making his way over to Lorena.

"How's your arm?" she asked, gesturing at the limb as he sat down next to her. They both laid back against the tunnel's wall.

Jason shrugged. The dog bite had scabbed over, but every time he fought or ran, the wound tore itself open from his exertions. It wasn't infected, yet, but it still ached. "It's fine."

Lorena leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

Jason didn't bother saying anything. She was already asleep.

He closed his eyes to follow suit. His last thoughts before he lost consciousness were that they had to find the fountain, and soon.

It was the only way they were getting out of the Labyrinth alive.

—

 **The Catherine Hershey School**

 **Gotham City**

 **21:50 EST**

 **Team Year One**

On the flight over, they reviewed the footage Robin's mask's built in cameras had recorded of the Jason's room the night he'd delivered the 12 year old's belongings, checking to see if he'd missed anything that night. They also pulled surveillance footage directly from the school's security cameras.

The footage was inconclusive; neither member of the dynamic duo could see anything that might indicate foul play in the recordings.

Once they'd arrived, they investigated Jason's room itself, looking for any physical evidence that might indicate the prior presence of someone who didn't belong. Soil, dirt, or other trace evidence on the floor that might have been left by the shoes of an unwary intruder. Fingerprints on surfaces that anyone entering the room would have had to touch in order to enter, like the windows or doorknob.

There was nothing to suggest anyone but Jason had been in the room. Or that he had left under anything but his own free will.

Finally, they checked the school's grounds, searching for trails that the police might have missed when they had been called out to the school to conduct their cursory investigation. Most of the school was enclosed by an 8 foot wall constructed of iron bars and brick and topped with surveillance cameras, and the entrance was guarded 24/7 by an armed guard, meaning that Jason or his kidnapper would have had to cut through the woods behind the school if he wanted to escape.

Again, they found nothing. Just like the police report Commissioner Gordon had given to them stated, it was as if Jason had vanished into thin air.

Another hero, like the Flash or maybe even Superman, would most likely have been dissuaded from continuing their search at that point. It was true that, if they knew Jason was in trouble, they would both have raced off as fast as they could to save him. But they didn't know. They couldn't. There just wasn't any evidence there to suggest that Jason had been taken against his will.

It was a sad truth that most heroes didn't have the time to follow up on every person whose lives they touched. But Batman and Robin were far from being any of the other hero. There was no evidence to prove their hunch that Jason had been kidnapped, but critically, there was no evidence to disprove it either.

And that was the key; until they came up with something definitive, Batman and Robin would keep searching until they knew what had happened to the missing street child that they'd met.

Which was why they now found themselves at the school's administration building. The last details that the police report contained noted that the last person to see and speak with Jason had been Alan Turner, the head of the school. Robin had hacked into the telephone network in order to track the man's cell phone, and they had discovered (to their mild surprise) that the elderly man was still at his office in the school.

The room's lone desk was set in the traditional fashion, facing towards the doors that led into the office rather than the windows. The office was dark, with only a lamp in the corner providing illumination. Alan Turner sat at his desk, unmoving, elbows on the desktop and hands held together in front of his forehead as if in prayer. He didn't notice as Batman and Robin climbed in through the windows behind him.

"Alan Turner," Batman said, adopting the deeper tone of voice that he used whenever he put on the cowl, "we need to know what you and Jason talked about before he disappeared."

Alan didn't respond. He didn't even move.

" ?" Robin said, more gently than his mentor had. The boy wonder reached out and touched a hand to the elderly man's shoulder. No reaction.

Robin gave him a gentle shake, wondering if he had fallen asleep at his desk. The minuscule movement was sufficient to disturb the the elderly man's position. Without warning, he slumped forward onto his desk, head thumping onto wooden desk. In contrast with the almost penitent posture that they'd found him in, Alan's face displayed an expression of obvious horror.

It was as Alan Turner fell that Robin caught sight of his wounds: his throat had been slit.

"Move!" Batman yelled in warning.

The instant both vigilantes leapt into action was the same instant their would be assassins appeared, bursting into the room in a storm of broken glass, splintered wood, and flashing blades. Four blurs of shadow leapt into the room, and a flurry of shuriken and throwing knives filled the air.

He and his mentor moved as fast as humanly possible, evading most of the projectiles and letting the ones that they couldn't avoid bounce off of their armor as they tumbled their way through across the room in order to get into range for hand-to-hand fighting. Robin drew his escrima sticks and leapt into the fray while his mentor followed close behind, preferring to fight with his armored gauntlets.

They split up, each of them challenging two of the assassins. Their initial attack having failed, the assassins drew their own blades in return and charged. Robin had a split second to take in their armored forms before they closed into range.

Their armor was all black, with bandoliers and pouches of knives strapped across their bodies within easy reach. He couldn't see their faces; they wore masks decorated with two circular eye lenses and a stylized avian beak and eyebrows.

What followed was some of the most intense fighting that Robin had ever experienced in his life.

It wasn't just that his opponents were good fighters. The Shadows who served Ra's Al Ghul were all masters of dozens of martial arts, and Robin could have fought them blindfolded and still come out victorious. It wasn't just that he was outnumbered either. He'd regularly faced odds much worse than this before on the streets of Gotham.

Having started his crime-fighting career at the ripe old age of nine, he'd fought against many opponents who were stronger than him before. He'd also fought against opponents who were faster than him. But these assassins were a lethal combination of the two, managing to avoid most of his strikes, but also willing to accept being struck in order to catch him off guard and retaliate with quick swings of their swords.

Their swords hacked at him unendingly, some strikes coming within inches of his neck and limbs before he turned them aside. "Die!" one of them snarled, his taloned fingers slicing at Robin's eyes, trying to blind him and render him helpless.

Robin's sticks were constantly in motion, striking out and deflecting their strikes in equal measure; he wasn't strong enough to block their strokes head on, as his mentor was doing with his armored vambraces, so he was forced to redirect and parry their attacks instead, contorting his body and flipping through the air to keep his balance.

A sword clipped his tricep, not biting deep enough to cut him, but scraping across his armor unpleasantly. He lashed out with one stick, angling his strike upwards to connect with one of the assassin's ribs, right under his under shoulder. It was a move that had served him well through the years, capable of driving a grown man to his knees with pain, or at the very least disabling the arm connected to the muscles it struck.

The assassin grunted in pain, but moved his arm rapidly, wrapping it around the stick that had crashed against his ribs and preventing Robin from escaping. One of the other assassins seized the opportunity his comrade-in-arms provided, striking at Robin's extended arm, forcing the younger vigilante to release his grip on his weapon, or else lose his arm.

Robbed of one of his weapons, Robin withdrew as he fought, cursing inwardly all the while.

He managed to land a decisive blow as he maneuvered, stick crashing into the temple of one of his opponents. The strike was strong and solid enough that it would have knocked any normal human out cold the instant it landed. His opponent was merely knocked off balance, swaying for a moment before coming right back into the attack.

He heard a muffled grunt from Batman as one of his opponents caught him with a side kick, sending him skidding backwards. Robin took advantage of the momentary distraction and disengaged, throwing his weight against to come apart cleanly from his opponents.

"This isn't good." Robin said, standing back to back with Batman, warding off his opponents with his raised stick. "I think they're enhanced."

"Agreed." Batman replied, not taking his eyes off of the two assassins that he'd been fighting. Their opponents were taking advantage of the break in the fighting as well, regrouping into two loose packs that surrounded them menacingly. The assassins in front brandished their swords menacingly, while those in the back reached towards storage surreptitiously, probably trying to draw more knives or other projectiles to throw at them. "Don't hold back. Get outside. We need room to maneuver."

Batman reached into his utility built and scattered a handful of flash and smoke bombs into the room. The assassins grunted and shielded their eyes from the disorientating explosions of sound and light, giving Batman and his young protege some cover as they sprinted towards the broken windows and jumped.

They landed on the lawn in front of the school, which was decorated with a large statue of the school's founder located in the middle. Robin could hear the sound of their opponents in hot pursuit. He turned his head to look, but before his head finished rotating, he caught a flash of moonlight glinting off of metal out of the corner of his eye.

"Look out!" He shouted, more out of force of habit than any real need to warn his mentor. Both vigilantes stopped and leapt backwards, just in times for the knives that had been aimed at them to sink into the dirt at their feet.

Those knives hadn't come from the assassins pursuing them. Robin's eyes narrowed warily as three more figures emerged from where they'd been concealed near the statue, two from beside it, one climbing atop it and looking down at them. Their postures as they emerged from concealment told Robin everything he needed to know about what was going on.

The assassins that had been pursuing them fanned out, joining the ones that had emerged in surrounding them completely. Robin suppressed the urge to sigh in exasperation with himself. This was clearly a multi-layered trap, and they'd walked straight into it.

The assassin standing on top of the statue raised his arms wide in mock welcome. His armor was was different from the others: there were fewer throwing knives in appearance, though his armor was more embellished. Clearly the leader of whoever had decided to attack them.

"Batman and Robin." The leader called to them in a confident voice. Robin's eyes narrowed. "The Court of Owls has sentenced you to death."

Pronouncement complete, he turned to address his men. His next order consisted of two growled words. "Kill them."

—

His name was Shrike, and as the most senior Talon present, command over this operation and his brother Talons fell to him.

Their orders, which had been given to him from the highest authority he knew, were simple. Kill Alan Turner. Kill Batman and Robin. Destroy anything that might lead back to the Court of Owls.

He had been commanded to act, and he would obey. Such was the duty of all talons.

Of course, despite the fact that Shrike had little to no interaction with mainstream society beyond navigating through it in order to reach his targets, neither he nor his brother Talons were ignorant. Or stupid.

They all knew who exactly who Batman was, in terms of his prominence and status within the superhero community. After all, in addition to the physical nature of their training, their lives consisted of years of preparation, studying potential enemy after potential enemy in case they were forced to face them in battle.

They had all heard the tales of his many victories over some of the deadliest super villains the world had ever known. Lesser warriors might have been intimidated by such an impressive reputation, but not Shrike, or his brother Talons.

No, as he leapt down from his perch atop the statue and charged alongside his brother Talons, all Shrike felt was righteousness and excitement.

Righteousness came from the knowledge he was doing his duty. This was exactly what he and his brothers had been created for. This was his place, and he rejoiced in it.

And excitement? That came from the realization that finally, he might finally have come across an opponent that could challenge him. His prior targets had almost all been mundane, ordinary men and women in positions of power who had somehow gotten in the way of the Court's goals. Some of them had employed bodyguards, but they'd been nothing more than chafe he'd had to cut through in order to reach his targets. Not one of the targets that he'd been given in the many years he'd served the court had caused him to wonder if his skills would be up to the task.

Until now.

Neither hero knew it, but as the Talons closed into range and the fighting began in earnest, each and every single one of the killers in service to the Court of Owls had a smile on their face.


	7. Into the Fire

_**The Catherine Hershey School**_

 _ **Gotham City**_

 _ **January 13th, 2012**_

 _ **22:09 EST**_

 _ **Team Year One**_

The dynamic duo didn't wait to be charged. They were already sprinting forward, trying to take down some of their foes quickly before the others could jump into the fray and bring their superior numbers to bear.

Robin led the way, outpacing his mentor to engage the assassin that they'd rushed at the edge of their encirclement, facing him one on one while Batman held back slightly, hoping to delay the rest of their pursuers and buy his young protege some time to triumph.

If Robin could take down the opponent that he faced quickly, they would only have to face 6 assassins at once, rather than 7. A subtle difference perhaps, but not meaningless. If he and Batman could even the odds bit by bit, reducing the number of threats that they faced slowly but surely, then they stood a chance.

Robin leapt high, reaching into his utility belt and tossing a handful of explosive birdarangs at the assassin he had singled out. Rather than hitting the assassin, the projectiles sliced into the ground around him, sending sprays of dirt and snow into the air as they exploded simultaneously. The display, while pyrotechnically impressive, did little more than cause the assassin to pause for a moment as the ground shook beneath his feet and clumps of frozen dirt rained down on him.

But a moment was all the boy wonder needed.

Robin's armored knee crunched through the assassin's weak guard with a crunch of breaking bone. As the assassin reeled back in surprise and pain, Robin kept up the momentum, launching a flurry of lightning quick blows to the assassins limbs intended to keep him flustered and off balance.

Even wounded and blinded, the assassin reacted expertly, managing to block most of the attacks, though the momentum of their fight had shifted so that he was on the defensive. Evading a leg sweep, the assassin reared back and brought his swords up in an overhand strike intended to either smash his younger opponent into the ground, or at least drive him away so that the assassin could recover.

It was just the opening that Robin had been waiting for; Robin lunged forward, coming underneath the blow and throwing an open handed strike upwards with his free hand. Robin's palm thudded upwards into the assassin's jaw. The effect of the impact was instantaneous: the assassin toppled backwards bonelessly, swords slipping from nerveless fingers as he was knocked unconscious from the sheer concussive force that Robin had applied.

It seemed that while the assassins that they faced possessed unnatural speed and strength, they were still human enough to be knocked out by a serious concussion.

The Teisho, the open palm strike that Robin had just used, was an advanced Japanese martial arts technique that Bruce had taught him designed to efficiently transfer force through layers of armor, though it worked just as well at transferring force through super-strong bone and muscle.

Using it had been a calculated risk though; if done improperly, Robin could have just as easily snapped his own wrist, leaving him at a serious disadvantage. As it stood, Robin's wrist joints throbbed painfully from the effort. But he didn't have the time to worry about it right now.

Even before the assassins that he'd taken down had finished falling, Robin was leaping back into the fray, rushing to help Batman face the six other assassins that his mentor had been holding off, at increasing cost. His armor, which had begun the evening as a pristine grey and black suit of ceramic-metallic protective plates woven together by bulletproof fabric, was now decorated with slashes of torn fabric and dull grey scrapes from the assassin's swords.

The bright red blood dripping from some of the gouges showed where their weapons had cut through the dark knight's armor and into the flesh beneath.

Batman shifted to the left, leaving a gap in his defense that one of the assassin's sought to exploit. Before he could do more than reposition his swords, Robin was there, bringing his stick crashing down into the assassin's wrist and knocking one of the swords out of his hands. He followed up by crashing his left elbow into the assassin's temple, hoping that the sharper bone of his elbow would cut into the assassin's skin and cause some blood to drip down and blind him.

Robin was forced to withdraw before he could follow up with another blow, as one of the other assassin's came to his fellow's aid and drove the boy wonder back with broad sweeps of his blades.

Robin skidded backwards through the snow and dirt as he landed, coming back to back with his mentor. The assassins chose that moment to swarm them again.

It might have been a cliche to say, but the only thing that allowed Batman and Robin to survive the next few moments, against opponents of this caliber, was their teamwork. M'gann had often said that watching the two of them fight alongside each other was like watching one mind coordinating two bodies flawlessly.

Here, the truth of that belief came to life; without looking, Batman blocked a kick that had been aimed at his partners head, allowing Robin to catch the assassin who had thrown the blow with a counter-kick. Unprompted, Robin tossed a birdarang that ricocheted off of an assassin's sword, knocking him off balance and stopping him from cutting into Batman's thigh, buying enough time for Batman to deal with the threat on his own.

On their own, they could have been swamped by sheer numbers; the wounds Batman had sustained thus far were a testament to that fact. Both members of the dynamic duo were both good fighters, but they didn't have eyes in the backs of their heads.

Together, they were more than the sum of their parts, able to stand their ground against the six assassins who wanted nothing more than to cut them to shreds.

The problem was, these assassins fought with a savage unity of their own. Often, when fighting groups, Batman and Robin were able to take advantage of the enemies numbers by letting them get in each other's way. Entangling limbs, dodging so that punches hit unintended targets. That wasn't happening here.

Their enemies' blades came within inches of each other, and their fellows, yet never interfered with their attacks. Dodging the strike of one assassin often left the dynamic duo perfectly lined up for a follow up blow from one of the others. Their blades hacked at them in an unending flurry.

Robin knew the situation was bad. The fight was turning into a battle of attrition rather than skill, something that the dynamic duo was ill equipped to deal with. With evasion out of the question, both vigilantes were forced to take the blows that they would have otherwise avoided; little by little, they would be worn down and overwhelmed. Heavy on the over.

Before either member of the dynamic duo could come up with a plan to regain the initiative, the leader of the assassins charged, accepting a series of punishing blows in exchange for disrupting their formation and forcing the two heroes apart. A powerful back kick sent Robin sprawling, while Batman was forced back in order to avoid being raked by the small blades built into the leader's gauntleted fingers.

No audible communication was exchanged, but the other five other assassins filled the gap that their leader had opened up immediately, splitting into two groups. Two joined their leader in forcing Batman back, while the other three launched themselves at Robin and tossed handfuls of throwing knives and miniature grenades at him.

"Robin!" Batman cried out in alarm, but there was nothing he could do, engaged as he was by the three other assassins who continued to bar his path.

The boy wonder shielded himself as best he could with the armored lining of his cape, but dirt and shrapnel continued to pepper his suit as he ran for his life. Robin ran and dove into the woods behind the school, hoping to break their line of sight. The three assassins who had forced him away chased after him, laughing in delight.

"Don't worry." One of his attackers said earnestly, noticing Batman's distracted gaze as he came at him with a flying knee. Batman kicked him out of the air before the blow could connect, his own strength augmented by the pseudo-muscular fibers in his suit allowing him to shift the weight easily. But they had been expecting that.

Before Batman could drop his leg and regain his footing, the other assassin swept his leg out from under him, sending the dark knight sprawling into the dirt. Instinct made him roll to the side as he landed, rather than springing up to his feet. The move saved his life, as a blade sliced through the air where his head would have been if he'd stood up.

"You'll join him in death soon enough." the leader chuckled. All three of the assassins laughed, circling Batman like vultures circling a carcass, blades still held at the ready.

Batman's gauntleted fists tightened in frustration as he resumed his guard. With these three assassins keeping him pinned, there was no way that he could rush to help his protege.

Robin was on his own.

—

"Robin calling Watchtower, come in!" Robin yelled into his comms, hoping to call in the League and get some super powered back up for both him and his besieged mentor. "This is Robin," he tried again, "calling anyone who can hear me. This is a priority red alert, Batman and I are under attack by an unknown group of assassins and are in danger of being overwhelmed. Is anyone there?!" His only reply was an earful of static.

Robin checked his holo computer and cursed; the link was being jammed, likely by some device that the assassins were carrying. He couldn't even make contact with the batwing.

"You can run," a voice taunted him from behind as he sprinted through the woods, "but you'll only die tired."

A thrown knife bounced off of Robin's pauldron, hitting him harder than some bullets had before. The force knocked him out of his stride, almost causing him to collide with a tree. Robin shifted his weight and kicked off the tree, throwing a batarang of his own in reply. The assassin that he'd thrown the projectile at deflected it with his sword, knocking it towards a tree instead, where it embedded itself into the trunk with a wooden *thunk*.

Just as Robin had intended.

This particular batarang, which had been designed to breach through reinforced door locks, exploded with enough force to turn the tree's lower trunk into thousands of splinters. Two of the assassins were forced to shield themselves from the spray of debris, and then move to avoid the falling tree. The third, who had been outside the immediate blast zone, kept on coming at his young prey.

Robin met him, escrima crashing against twin blades, trading a flurry of lightning fast blows as both fighters sought an opening they could use to their advantage. Robin gave up his search after two seconds, an age to his adrenaline fueled senses. The assassins were too good to make simple mistakes, and since he was outnumbered, he didn't have the time to waste to draw out what his opponent's strengths and weaknesses were.

If Robin wanted an opening, he'd have to make it himself.

Moving quickly, Robin drew back, telegraphing his intention to throw a backhanded strike with his escrima. His opponent reacted expertly, bringing one sword in to block the incoming stick, the other to stab Robin in the side. He certainly wasn't expecting Robin to drop his escrima the moment their weapons made contact.

With no resistance, the assassin's blade slapped the escrima aside, sending it spinning off into the brush. Robin stepped in close, weaving past the wild blow, and stomped down on the assassin's knee. Hard.

The assassin roared in pain and outrage as his knee snapped at the joint, bending degrees beyond its normal range of movement. Robin seized the advantage, wrapping both of his arms around the assassin's right arm and twisting, hyperextending and breaking that too. The sword in his right hand fell free, sinking blade first into the cold ground. Finally, as the assassin toppled backwards, Robin drove his knee into the back of the assassin's head, hoping a fractured skull would finally be enough to keep one of his super-strong foes down for good.

The assassin landed in a crumpled heap, still stirring weakly. The two that were left, who had maneuvered around the obstacle he had put in their way at point, renewed their attack with a fury, as if outraged that one of their own had fallen to him.

By design, Robin's suit wasn't as armored as Batman's. Sacrificing the extra armor gave him a greater range of motion and more speed, but the relative lack of protection was working against him now. His opponents were stronger than he was, just as fast, and their weapons gave them an advantage in reach that he couldn't match. He couldn't deflect blades with his vambraces as Batman would have, and having sacrificed his escrima to take down another of his opponents, Robin was left without a weapon that he could reliably parry with.

Robin dodged and weaved as best he could, but their blades hacked into his armor, cleaving bulletproof fabric from protective plating, drawing blood where they cut into him. His armor and skill meant that no gash was deep enough to be life-threatening, but his chances of winning were decreasing with every drop of blood that spilled free from his body.

He pulled his grapnel gun and fired it at a tree further away, trying to create some distance so that he could recover, but both assassins immediately threw another volley of throwing knives before he could get more than a few feet. Caught in mid air with nothing to push off of and maneuver, Robin was forced to block the knives coming at his face with his free arm.

Most bounced off his armor, failing to penetrate the high tech suit, but Robin let out a pained yelp and grit his teeth as one of the knives punched through his armor and embedded itself in the muscle of his left forearm. The other volley missed him and sliced through his grapnel line instead, causing him to plummet from the air. Robin was easily one of the best heroes his age, but even he wasn't immune to the laws of physics.

He landed badly, the impact driving the knife even deeper and causing his arm to spasm in pain. For all intents and purposes, the limb was useless to him at the moment.

The two remaining assassins spread out to make it difficult for him to watch both of them at once. "You fought well, boy," one of them said, tilting his head in a gesture of respect even as he readied himself for the kill, "but this ends here."

"Really?" Robin laughed, forcing himself to smile with bravery that he didn't feel. He dropped the grapnel with the line that had been severed and pulled one the knife in his arm free, holding it up in a guard. "I think I'm winning. How about you?"

Both assassins chuckled at his gesture of defiance, pointless as it was, and charged.

—

Several hundred yards away, Batman was faring better than his young protege, but not by much. His armor was punctured in over a dozen places, and rivulets of blood and sweat dripped free from the breaches.

He too had taken down one of his attackers, the assassin Robin had partially blinded; with half of his field of vision blocked by the blood dripping from his forehead into his eye, the assassin had fallen easily. That left two for him to deal with, a regular assassin, and differently armored one that seemed to be their leader.

They stepped over their fallen comrade and struck again, sending a spray of sparks outwards with their swords as the edges of their blades gouged into the metal of Batman's armor. Batman managed to catch one of the leaders swords with the wing like protrusions built into his vambrace, snapping the blade with a quick twist of his forearm and knocking the other assassin back with a kick to the face.

Without missing a beat, the leader threw the broken sword like a dagger, using it as a distraction to reverse his grip on his remaining blade and bring it plunging down. Batman caught the blow with his crossed forearms, the sheer force sending him skidding back through the cold and muddy slush that had been churned up through their fight.

Both fighters strained with effort as they both fought to break the deadlock in their favor. Batman's muscles were easily the pinnacle of what an unaugmented human could achieve, but even with the strength enhancing fibers built into his suit, the assassin was just as strong as he was.

"Who are you?" Batman asked through grit teeth.

"Shrike. Servant of the Court of Owls." The leader replied. The strain of effort was clear in his voice, but his tone was proud. "Now you know the name of the warrior who will end your pathetic legend." Before either of them could speak again, the other assassin recovered and rushed back in, hoping to land a kill before Batman could break the deadlock.

Batman thundered a headbutt into Shrike's mask, shattering the eye lenses under his armored cowl. As Shrike reeled backwards in pain and surprise, Batman jumped away in order to avoid being carved apart by a broad swing of the other assassin's sword.

He rolled as he landed, taking advantage of the opportunity to reach into his utility belt and toss a handful of smoke bombs.

Having lost his target in the sudden cloud of smoke, the remaining assassin swung at where he'd last seen the dark knight. That proved to be a mistake; Batman caught the assassins wrist in a crushing grip and followed up with a brutal punch to the elbow, unknowingly snapping the assassin's arm in a manner similar to his protege had.

The assassin's blade flew into the smoke. Before the assassin could retreat, Batman hit him with a devastating series of blows. A knee thudded into his chest, driving the breath from his body. Another blow smashed into his scapula, shattering the bone and dislocating the shoulder of his good arm. As the assassin doubled over in pain, Batman finished him by bringing an elbow crashing down onto his skull.

He dropped without a word.

"Impressive!" Shrike's voice came at him from behind.

Batman tossed a series of batarangs at the source of the sound. There was the metallic clang of metal on metal as Shrike swatted them from the air with his sword and lunged forward, determined not to let his target escape his grasp.

Shrike's blade flashed through the smoke, crashing into Batman's chest plate. With the eye lenses of his mask shattered, Shrike stared at Batman with his true eyes. Their inverted, inhuman nature was almost enough make Batman shudder.

"You have my word that once I kill you, I will make a trophy from your skull and hang your bones in the Labyrinth for all to see." Shrike said.

He punctuated the statement with another swing of his sword. Batman grunted in pain as the strike slashed across the bat emblem emblazoned on his chest plate, biting deep enough to penetrate the layered armor there and into the flesh beneath. A thin stream of blood welled out, strikingly bright in the moonlight, contrasted against the black and grey armor it coated.

The smile still hidden behind Shrike's mask was evident in his voice. "You deserve nothing less."

—

Two assassins, one on his left, one on his right, the tips of their swords pointed as his heart. At some unheard, unseen signal, they charged as one, rushing at the boy wonder, each eager to claim the honor of killing him for themselves.

The way they were positioned, if Robin moved to engage one, the other would be perfectly placed to stab him in the back and kill him. If he stayed put, they'd attack together and kill him.

Not much of a choice.

Acting more on adrenaline fueled instinct than anything else, Robin sprinted directly between them. Of the options available to him, it was quite possibly the worst, putting him in range of both of them at once, and on their terms. Both assassins stiffened in surprise at the near suicidal move, but their hesitance lasted for less than a microsecond before they attacked.

One assassin sliced high, the other low, their swords swinging at him with less than a foot between them. Robin jumped and spun with his legendary acrobatic skills, passing between the moving blades with barely millimeters to spare. A long gash was torn in his cape, and one of their blades scraped across his shin protector, but otherwise, he emerged unscathed.

Robin came out of the near impossible aerial maneuver with a flourish.

Quicker than the assassins could react, he plunged the knife that he'd been holding down into the boot of the one closest to him. With Robin's full strength and weight behind it, the knife parted through armor, flesh and bone with ease, sinking several inches into the dirt, eliciting a pained exhalation from the assassin.

Despite the pain that he must have been in, the assassin raised his injured leg and kicked out at Robin. The force sent Robin sprawling. He barely managed to land on his feet seven meters away. and then was forced to tumble backwards even further as the other assassin came to his fellow's aid, driving the boy wonder back with quick slices of his twin blades.

The assassin Robin had stabbed took advantage of the momentary respite to reach down and pull the throwing knife out of his foot, yanking it out in one fluid motion, growling in pain and anger. He moved to catch up with the action, but just as Robin had intended, the wound he had inflicted on the assassin limited his mobility down considerably.

Fighting these assassins one on one was much more manageable, relatively speaking. As he dodged and weaved around the assassin's blade, Robin caught a glimpse of something he could use. He cartwheeled away from assassin chopping at him, coming to a halt several meters away and snatching up the sword belonging to the assassin whose arm and leg he'd crippled.

The fight changed as soon as his fingers closed around the blade; he might not have been willing to use it for its intended function, but at least now he once again had a weapon that he could reliably block and parry with, negating one of the advantages his opponents held over him.

"You think that sword makes you a match for us?" One of the assassins roared at him as they regrouped, angry that his chance at a flawless kill had been lost.

Robin smiled at them. "Yup."

They charged each other at the same moment. Robin ran as fast as he could, needing as much speech as he could muster in order to survive the next few minutes intact.

The assassins were wise to his trick now, coordinating their blades so that there would be no room for the boy wonder to maneuver through them should he attempt another feat of acrobatics.

Robin didn't try jumping through; at this level, predicability meant being killed. Instead, at the very last possible moment before their blades came for him, he dropped and slid between the legs of the assassin whose foot he had wounded.

Criminals who fought against Batman and Robin often took comfort in the fact that the vigilantes never killed the people they fought. That comfort was often fleeting once the fight actually started and the dynamic duo's gauntleted fists turned their faces into bloody pulps, but the basic principle was correct. Batman and Robin couldn't kill. They would never kill.

But, given the right circumstances, Robin would certainly maim.

He lashed out with his stolen blade, avoiding any blood vessels as he cut deep into the leg of the assassin whom he'd slid underneath. Hamstrung, the assassin vented his fury in a feral roar as he lost the ability to stand with his leg muscles severed. He tried to slash at Robin, hoping in vain to cut his target down before he hit the ground, but the boy wonder was already out of reach.

The crippled assassin dropped his swords and tried to push himself upright, determined to try and help his sole remaining brother by using his throwable weapons, but a stomp to the back of the head slammed his skull into the ground, knocking him unconscious.

Before Robin could admire his handiwork, the final assassin was there, blades driven to new heights of speed by the cold fury that gripped him at seeing his brothers fall. Even with the sword, Robin's efforts were pushed to the limit as he sought to defend himself from the assassin's extraordinary swordsmanship.

Enemies driven to desperation were often the most dangerous, and both of them knew that this fight would be decided in the next few seconds.

Even alone, the last assassin was still a formidable foe. Robin's sword flew from his grip, kicked from his hand by an armored boot. A pommel strike that slipped through his defenses cracked one of his ribs. Robin accepted the blows as he stepped in close, determined to finish this fight. With his smaller size, he had the advantage once he was past the assassin's defense.

A chop at the wrist forced the assassin to drop his sword. Undeterred, the assassin seized Robin by the cape and tried to life the boy wonder high, intent on smashing him into the ground. Just as his feet were about to leave the ground, Robin kicked off, crashing his heel into the underside of the assassin's jaw and sending him flying backwards into the trunk of a tree.

Before the assassin could recover, Robin threw a bola, the weighted ends wrapping around his torso and binding him to the tree. The cables that made up the bola creaked under the strain of holding the assassin immobile, but even with super strength, the lack of leverage and the level of constriction meant that any attempt at escape was doomed to failure.

Robin allowed himself a breath of relief. He'd done it.

"Enjoy your victory, boy." The last assassin snarled, muscles still straining against his confinement. "It won't last."

Robin wasn't listening; he was already sprinting back towards the school, determined to help his mentor.

—

A second swing of the sword. A third. Batman blocked and managed to knock the blade from Shrike's grip, only to receive a kick to his chest in return. With his dueling blades gone, Shrike deployed the miniature blades built into the fingertips of his gauntlets with a twitch of effort and leapt right back into the attack.

It was like fighting a dark reflection of himself. Every move one made was countered by the other. Each of them had a veritable arsenal tucked into the storage pouches of their armor, which they were willing to use liberally.

Batman could see that Shrike recognized it too; it seemed to amuse the assassin to no end.

Batman aimed low as Shrike charged him, smashing a kick into his armored knee. The blow knocked Shrike slightly off balance, but Batman missed the crucial angle that he'd needed to break the knee.

Shrike stiffened his fingers and stabbed out with his hand. HIs bladed finger tips punched into Batman's shoulder, ripping free an instant later in a spray of blood across the snow. Batman's cried out in pain as his arm fell limp, the muscles in his shoulder shredded.

Before Shrike could follow through, Batman dropped a flash bomb and jumped back. Having seen the assassin's eyes, he suspected that Shrike would be more susceptible to bright flashes than an ordinary person would. He was entirely correct.

The flash bomb turned night to day for an instant. Batman's cowl lenses automatically darkened to compensate for the sudden influx of light, but Shrike had no such defenses. The assassin cried out and shielded his eyes as light stabbed into them, leaving him temporarily blinded.

"Clever." Shrike said through clenched teeth. His original eyes, the ones that he had been born with, had been replaced with genetically spliced replacements years ago, a standard enhancement for all Talons. Given the work that Talons usually undertook, sensitivity to light had been deemed an acceptable risk in exchange for complete night vision.

Shrike was forced to blink tears from his eyes, which still had the after image of the exploding flash bomb seared onto them. It took him a few moments to focus his hearing to try and compensate for his lack of vision.

"Any last words?" Shrike asked confidently, as his vision began to clear. Even though he was bruised and battered, Shrike knew that with Batman robbed the use of one limb, he had the advantage. He could win.

They circled each other warily. Batman was clutching at the wound Shrike had inflicted in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. He stopped moving and smiled at his would be killer. "Behind you."

Shrike wasn't a fool. Only a child would have fallen for such a simple trick. That, combined with the fact that the assassin was intent on claiming his prize, was why Shrike was taken completely by surprise when Robin slammed into him from behind.

The kick knocked him forward, leaving him open for Batman to drive a fist like a meteor into his jaw. Shrike tried to counterattack, but off balance, dazed, and outnumbered, he had no hope of victory.

A side kick was caught underneath Batman's good arm, and Robin drove an elbow into it, shattering the bone. Shrike slashed horizontally with his bladed fingertips, Robin dodged backwards, and Batman stepped into the gap left by his partner, slamming a kick into Shrike's face.

They took him apart, piece by piece.

When it was done, Shrike was little more than human wreckage lying on the snow. "Well done." He chuckled through shattered ribs. "I can see why we were ordered to kill you."

Traditionally, Batman was in charge of questioning the criminals that they captured, but since he was busy applying a bandage to the wound Shrike had inflicted, it fell to Robin to try and find out what he could. He stepped in close and pulled of Shrike's mask.

The face that looked up at them was almost entirely nondescript. Mid 30s. Fair features. Brown hair. The only thing outward sign that he was enhanced were his eyes. Black sclera with white irises.

Robin knelt down so that he and Shrike were face to face.

"What is the Court of Owls? Where is Jason Todd?" He asked pointedly.

Grunting with the effort, Shrike opened his mouth and shut it quickly, with an audible clack of teeth on teeth. At first, Robin thought that Shrike had bitten down on a cyanide capsule, and was already reaching into his utility belt for his medical kit when a hazard warning came to life in the heads up display of his mask.

The IR sensors built into his mask were detecting a rapid built up of thermal energy coming directly from Shrike. Shrike's laughter was broken up by several coughs, but it was laughter all the same. Unknown to the dynamic duo, he'd triggered the final weapon the Court had given to all Talons, to be used in the event of failure.

Inside his body, organic pouches containing volatile chemicals shredded themselves and spilled their contents into his bloodstream, combining with the unnatural compounds that gave him his enhanced form to create an exothermic reaction that would put thermite to shame.

"You'll find out soon enough." He smiled at them through bloodstained teeth. "Noctis Aeternum."

"Move!" Batman commanded, grabbing his protege by the shoulder and running as fast as he could.

They made it just over 7 steps away before Shrike exploded in a burst of superheated gore, knocking them both off of their feet and peppering them with organic shrapnel. The other assassins that the dynamic duo had defeated detonated as well, their deaths brought about by the switch Shrike had triggered.

Batman and Robin pushed themselves up to their feet as the explosions subsided, taking in the charred crater that Shrike had left behind. Both of their armored suits were punctured in more than a dozen places, and their capes were little more than tattered shreds.

"Batman," Robin breathed, staring at the steaming crater in disbelief, "What the hell is going on?"

—

 _ **The Labyrinth**_

 _ **Date Unknown**_

 _ **Time Unknown**_

"Jason. Lorena." Sean whispered, shaking the former lightly. "Wake up."

Jason woke from one of the rare lapses of consciousness that passed for sleep in the Labyrinth immediately. Despite the abrupt awakening, he was already on alert. He'd gone through this too many times to not know what was going on. Lorena was similarly wary, sitting up from where she'd been resting on Jason's shoulder.

"Where?" He asked, pushing himself up into a crouched position so that he could both look around and move quickly if he needed to.

Sean gestured towards the tunnel entrance, already moving to wake up the rest of their group. "The way we came in. I saw one of them skulking around."

Jason moved to peer into the shadows as the rest of their group stirred into wakefulness. He spotted the threat Sean had indicated after a few moments: a human shaped shadow was moving around on all fours completely silently, pausing every now and then as if looking for something.

The rest of the group moved up and clustered around him. "What do you think?" James asked.

"He's from the same group as before" Jason replied. "We have to move."

Joseph waved to catch their attention, pointing at his eyes and then at the shadows by the exit that they'd planned to escape through. A second shadow, similar to the first, stood absolutely still as it waited for its companion to finish searching.

"There's another one." Lorena breathed, translating Joseph's warning.

"No way we're sneaking past him." Sean noted. "He's right next to the exit. As soon as they notice us, they'll call their friends and we'll have to run for it."

"Then we have to fight our way through." Chris said, pulling his knife from its sheath. The rest of the group followed suit. Jason, having lost his knife days ago, was forced to grab a rock.

Chris waved them forward. "Stay quiet till we're noticed. Let's go."


	8. Always Forward

**Parliament Grove**

 **January 17th, 2012**

 **08:36 EET**

 **Team Year One**

"Grandmaster." Raptor bowed his head in respect as he entered the Grandmaster's inner sanctum.

"Raptor." The Grandmaster replied, not taking his eyes off the of the screen mounted on the wall. A live feed showing all of the aspirants still alive in the Labyrinth was on display, enhanced to compensate for the dark confines of the Labyrinth's interior.

As was traditional, they'd started with 50 aspirants, all kidnapped from places across the world where a missing child wouldn't raise any eyebrows. Now, there were just under a dozen left, divided into 3 separate groups. The Grandmaster had been watching the largest, a group of 6, as they snuck their way through a cave in order to launch an ambush on some of the feral prisoners the Court kept the Labyrinth populated with.

"Any news from Gotham?" The Grandmaster asked, his tone conversational.

"No, Grandmaster."

The negative reply caused the Grandmaster to look over in mild surprise.

"Shrike and his team missed their scheduled communications check several minutes ago." Raptor informed him. "Their last report indicated that they were about to engage Batman. Given the lack of contact since, I must assume that they have failed."

"Disappointing." The Grandmaster said, turning in his chair to face Raptor, his voice cool. Raptor's head, already lowered in shame at the failure of his subordinates, dropped further still under the Grandmaster's gaze.

The Court's leader sighed. "But hardly surprising. The fault is not yours, Raptor. These are some of the world's best heroes, after all." He turned in his chair, letting the irritation he felt ebb away as he gazed out off his office window. In a void of pure analytical thought, the Grandmaster weighed each of the different considerations at play. The likelihood of discovery. Resources and personnel currently available. What the Court knew and didn't know about Batman and the Justice League.

The Grandmaster considered all of these factors and more in an instant. This was his role, after all. Just as it was Raptor's duty to root out and eliminate any threats to the Court, it was the Grandmaster's duty to lead the Court in changing the world for the better, unfettered by simplistic notions of morality, sentiment, or emotion.

Within moments, he came to his decision, turning away from the window to face Raptor once again. "Begin transferring all of our essential assets to the Acropolis. Focus primarily on our staff and the initiates training here."

Raptor tilted his head, surprised. Ever the Court's faithful warrior, the idea of abandoning the Court's ancestral headquarters without a fight and evacuating to the Acropolis, a facility that had been designed to hide the entire Court should it be necessary, was anathema to him. "We're evacuating Parliament Grove?"

"Merely a precaution, dear Raptor." The Grandmaster told him, with a tone of infinite patience. He leaned forward and got to his feet. "The Acropolis was built with just this sort of contingency in mind. It might not prove necessary, but given that this is Batman and the Justice League we're dealing with, better to be safe."

Raptor fell silent, torn between wanting to protest the Grandmaster's decision and following the instilled instincts that demanded that he obey without question.

As ever, training won over personal feelings.

"As you command, Grandmaster." Raptor said. "I will begin the preparations at once."

"Good, good." The Grandmaster's gaze slid back to the images of the aspirants on the screen. "They've done very well to make it this far. It's a shame, really. If not for the fact Batman had taken notice of the tithe, I'd say that this was likely to be one of our most successful trials yet."

"Yes." Raptor agreed. "The aspirants of this year's tithe have proven to be resilient."

The Grandmaster continued to watch the screen with rapt attention. Raptor considered the magnitude of his orders, and their implications for the trials. "What of the aspirants? Shall I have them eliminated?"

The Grandmaster tilted his head in thought. Perhaps the trial of the Labyrinth was cruel, but it was almost certainly effective. It wasn't just physical strength that was required to become a Talon, the Grandmaster mused, but a certain mental strength as well.

How many times had he seen an aspirant, driven mad by fear and despair, lose their grasp on reality and become no different from the rabid animals that hunted them? How many times had he seen an aspirant lose hope and beg for mercy in vain, from men who had none to spare?

The Grandmaster tried to recall the numbers, but gave up as they spiraled into the hundreds.

Still, as Talons like Raptor proved, the results were worth it. Any child who could successfully fight off both men and beasts while starving and exhausted for the better part of a week, without losing hope, was almost certainly strong enough to survive the necessary procedures and training to become a Talon. At this point, it was almost certain that the chaff amongst the aspirants had been cut away. Eliminating the aspirants now that they had come so far and sacrificed so much would have been a tremendous waste.

As if to prove his point, the aspirants began their ambush, turning the tables on their hunters. He smiled.

Tradition dictated that the aspirants find their own way to the Fountain, however long it took, but given the circumstances…

"No." The Grandmaster declared, watching the fight proceed with rapt attention. "Funnel them towards the Fountain and prepare a Chimera for the last trial. Make preparations to evacuate the master surgeons, but keep them nearby. I'd like them on hand just in case any of these aspirants survive. It would be a waste not to elevate these children, should they prove worthy."

Raptor bowed to signal his compliance. "It will be done."

—

 **The Labyrinth**

 **Moments Later**

Things had gone well at first. They'd managed to take one of the two ferals down just as he discovered their presence, and make their escape. The feral sentry who had been keeping watch on the cavern's exit had been in the midst of drawing in the breath he needed to shout a warning to his partner when Jason and his group surged forward out of the shadows, bearing him down to the cold stone floor in a tangle of limbs and bodies.

His warning cry died in his throat as Lorena's blade opened his jugulars with her knife, and what little fight he managed to put up in the seconds afterward that was ended by the weapons the rest of the children held in their hands.

They cut, stabbed and bludgeoned him to death quickly, with the ease born of repetition.

Despite the success of their attack, it was far from silent. The sounds of a struggle caught the attention of the other feral man searching for them, instantly alerting him to their presence. Having confirmed the presence of the children he'd been sent to find, he didn't hesitate, charging at them with a roar that would have done a lion proud as it echoed through the cavernous space.

Even worse than that roar had been the sound that came after, a cacophony of shouts and exuberant cries that let Jason's group know that the large group of ferals that they'd been eluding for the last few days was nearby. In the confines of the caves, the voices of their hunters sounded close, closer than Jason had been expecting. They were close enough that Jason could even hear the wet slap of their bare feet running across the rock as they ran to catch up with their scouts.

Jason and his friends could have stayed and fought the lone feral, killed him before making their escape, but there was no point. No matter how many they killed, no matter how many they managed to escape or how many they managed to drive off, there were always more lunatics, cannibals and madmen to take their place.

Besides, the feral had just been trying to slow them down so that his comrades could catch up to them.

As soon as Lorena was on her feet, she and Jason started sprinting, moving to keep up with the rest of their group. To be left behind was death. Their foes were bigger, and stronger. The only attribute Jason's friends had the advantage in was speed, and that was an insubstantial aid at best. What would happen if they got cornered?

Defeating all of the ferals in a straight up fight was never going to be an option. Their only hope for survival was to find a good place to hide.

Behind them, the sounds of pursuit became louder. Jason had shot a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that a mob of almost two dozen ferals had emerged from the far entrance, all sprinting towards him as fast as they could manage. They ignored their fallen comrade, stepping over his severed body without a backwards glance as they sought to chase down their fleeing prey.

Inwardly, Jason cursed; he'd been hoping that these ferals would stop to cannibalize their fallen rather than give chase, as had happened before. Evidently, these ferals were intent on killing them for reasons other than simply satiating their hunger with whatever flesh they happened to come across.

Jason ran faster.

They reached another cavern quickly, with two paths branching off in opposite directions to their left and right. The six friends didn't bother discussing which path to take, orienting themselves towards the tunnel to the right. At this point, they were already so lost that making a wrong choice wouldn't make a difference.

They were halfway to the tunnel when it suddenly exploded. The force of the blast knocked them all onto their backs, spraying them with dust and debris. The mouth of the tunnel collapsed into a pile of impassable rubble. The sound of several other explosions echoed through the cavern, at the same time.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sean yelled as they got to their feet. He clutched at his head in pain, half-deafened by the explosion.

"You wanna stay and find out?" Chris asked his brother rhetorically, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him towards the tunnel that hadn't exploded in order to get him moving. The others followed suit, wiping dust and grime from their eyes before they resumed their flight towards the tunnel.

They continued their headlong flight through the darkness. More than a few tunnels had been collapsed, leaving them no other option but to use the ones that remained intact.

For a few brief moments, Jason wondered exactly what was going on. He and his friends were being herded, that much was clear. But herded towards what?

He gave up trying to guess. The obvious answer was that he had no clue, and right now, he just had to concentrate on staying alive.

The answer became apparent soon enough. After several long minutes that felt like hours to his fatigued muscles, their surroundings changed. The rough stone walls and dark caves that had been his home for the last few torturous days gave way to an impossibly large cavern, shaped like a colossal dome that looked big enough to encompass Gotham's downtown district with room to spare.

In contrast to the near total darkness of the caves, the dome was completely illuminated with bright white light. Jason and his friends were forced to stop for a moment and shield their eyes against the blinding glare.

The cavern was so large and so bright that for a brief moment, Jason thought he'd somehow managed to escape the trial and stumble outside. That hope proved futile as his dilated pupils began to adjust to the illumination: this was the Labyrinth he had imagined.

The path ahead was a circular maze lined with walls made of white granite that were at least five stories tall. If he'd had the time, Jason would have stared at it in awe. The sounds of pursuit echoed up from the caverns behind, breaking him out of his wonderment, and Jason and his friends sprinted into the maze without another look.

Things went well at first. The maze was devoid of any signs of life save themselves, and though the ferals were now close enough to be within line of sight, under the harsh glare of the maze's artificial light, they were clearly slower and more hesitant.

Jason's group took advantage by sprinting as fast as they could through their seamless white granite surroundings, opening up a huge lead between them and their pursuers. Jason himself was at the head of the group, leading the way, when something *clicked* under his foot.

They'd encountered traps before in the caverns, of course, but those had been clunky and obvious: rusty bear traps hidden in the shadows that would take the legs off of the unwary, or spring loaded spears that were triggered by pressure plates. Easy to spot, once you knew what to look for, and therefore easy to avoid.

This was something else entirely. The pressure plate was built into the floor, and in the bright light it blended in with its surroundings seamlessly. Before he could react, the floor ahead of him retracted into the walls with the silent quickness that signified the use of advanced mechanics. He had a split-second to take in the sight of a deep pit, almost seven feet long and ten feet deep, filled with sharpened spikes, before he started falling.

Jason used the last of his momentum to hurl himself forward, trying to reach for the far edge of the pit, but it was just out of his reach. His fingertips slipped off the smooth granite, leaving him flailing in mid air as he fell towards his death.

Jason fell for just over a few inches before Sean was there to save him, jumping across the length of the pit as quick as humanly possible to catch Jason by the wrist with one hand and the edge of the pit with the fingertips of his other hand.

"Gotcha!" Sean breathed, straining with the effort of holding the weight of both of their bodies up, especially with muscles weakened by lack of food and rest. On his own, Sean had no chance of pulling both of them up.

Thankfully, they weren't alone. Rescue came quickly, in the form of Chris and Joseph. They both took running leaps, kicking off the Labyrinth's wall in order to propel themselves over the pitfall trap. The former reached down over the edge to grab Jason's free hand, and the latter grabbed Sean by the armpit and pulled him up.

The four of them lay there on the floor, catching their breath. "No one deserves our luck." Sean managed to gasp. Joseph nodded his head wearily in agreement as Lorena and James leap across the pitfall trap to join them.

The moment their two remaining friends crossed the pit, the floor slid back into place, leaving no sign of the trap that had occupied the space scant seconds ago.

"No shit." Chris breathed, finally summoning the strength to stand up again. "There must be traps like that scattered throughout this maze."

"It's not a maze." Lorena said.

The others looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?" James asked.

She pointed at the walls around them. "If it were a maze, there would be multiple paths for us to follow. But we've been following the same path since we entered. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

The others all frowned, but Jason could see the logic in her words. There had been more than a few twists and turns, but unlike the caves there had been no branching paths to get lost on that one would normally associate with a maze. It wouldn't be much of a challenge if you couldn't get lost.

"It feels like we're being herded towards something." Jason said, giving voice to the thought that had been on his mind for the last few minutes.

Sean shrugged. "Or challenged."

Chris shook his head. "It doesn't matter either way. If we take our time, those bastards will catch up to us. If we run, we're gonna blunder into more traps."

"We can't take them in a fair fight." Lorena noted.

"So we don't fight fair." Jason said, an idea forming in his head. "Give me your knife. I have a plan."

—

The pain was the only thing that united them, he reflected, in the brief moments when his thoughts were lucid enough to reflect. Of course, those moments were so rare, and the pain so intense, that no sooner had he had the thought that it was obliterated by another wave of agony radiating through his skull. It felt like someone had driven screws into the grey matter of his brain, pushing them deeper and deeper into his mind.

He pressed a hand against surgical scars embedded in the flesh on the side of his head in a futile effort to lessen the pain, but gave up after a few moments. Around him, almost two dozen of his fellow prisoners did the same. Externally, they seemed fine, but if you knew what to look for, you could see the signs of the implants their captors had placed in their skulls slowly inflaming the pain centers of the brains. The twitches in the muscles of the jaw as one tried to stop himself from screaming, or the drooling of another as he focused all of his effort solely on moving through the crippling pain.

The light didn't help. If anything, it made things worse. These men had had lived in the darkness for so long that their pupils were almost permanently dilated.

Ordinarily these men would be at each others throats, viewing each other as competition, or perhaps prey, but the pain obliterated all distinctions between them. When the pain came, vendettas and feuds would be set aside, mortals enemies would work together in order to achieve the one thing they all knew would alleviate the agonizing pain in their skulls: killing the children that had been thrown into their home.

It was always like this, when children were in the Labyrinth. Most of the time in the caves that served as their prison, he and his fellow prisoners were left alone to eke out an existence in the cold and the dark. But when the children came, the pain would start.

It was slow at first, ignorable in the squalor and misery that accompanied their imprisonment, but as the days went on the pain in his skull would slowly grown in till it obliterated everything else. Killing each other would increase the pain. Killing a child would lessen it, to a degree, but until only when their prison had been cleansed of the presence of the children that their captors had thrown in would he and his prisoners would continue to suffer.

In the back of his mind, he knew he should be wary of the inner Labyrinth and the trips that it contained; after all, it was the main reason his fellow captives tended to avoid it. But at that moment, he couldn't even remember his own name. Much like his thoughts, his memories were soup, wispy and intangible things that evaporated as under the onslaught of sensation in his skull. The only thing that he could onto, other than the pain, was his rage.

Rage at his captors for driving a pain-engine into his skull and throwing him into this hellhole. Rage at his fellow prisoners for failing to kill the children, so that the pain would stop. Rage at the children themselves for the simple crime of living, for making him chase after them and endure the blinding light.

He stumbled through the light, pushing himself further into the Labyrinth alongside his fellows, seeking blessed relief from the pain-pressure inside his skull. The rising aggression and spiking adrenaline caused his vision to redden with every beat of his racing heart.

By the time he turned a corner and caught sight of two of the children, he was barely even human. His identity, built from lifetime's memories and decisions, had faded beneath the endless waves of pain and red, berserk rage.

The children were in the middle of the pathway, looking frightened. One of their number was lying on the ground, clutching at a bleeding leg, while two of the others dragged him away, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the floor. Easy targets.

If he'd still had the capacity to think, he might have wondered why the blood trail was so small, or that 5 children hadn't managed to drag one of their friends further than the paltry distance that he'd covered. He might have looked closer and realized that the wound on the child's leg, while bleeding, was relatively shallow and superficial.

But he didn't. He charged on, screaming without knowing it, hearing and feeling nothing beyond his rage and the pain inside his head.

He was at the head of the feral horde that charged at the children, and as a result, he was one of the first to die when one of the others stepped on the hidden switch that triggered the pitfall trap.

The ground beneath his feet fell away, and he plummeted. He kept screaming his fury all the way down to the spikes below.

—

Lorena and Sean helped Jason up from where he'd been lying on the floor. The cut that he'd made in the flesh of his leg throbbed, but compared to all of the other injuries he'd sustained thus far, it was utterly ignorable.

Together, he and his friends watched as at least half of the ferals tumbled into the pit. Blood and viscera splattered across the walls as they were impaled, though only a few were killed outright.

By any stretch of the imagination, his trap hadn't been subtle, but the ferals had been so focused on reaching them that they'd stumbled into it nonetheless. His plan hadn't amounted to much, merely a simple recognition of their circumstances.

They could have moved on ahead, slowly navigating around the traps, but then the ferals would have caught up, and they would have had to fight. Similarly, if they'd stayed and fought and won, a scenario that was by no means certain, they would have been too exhausted and injured to avoid the traps.

Faced with nothing but bad decisions, Jason had decided to go for the one that would hurt their foes the most. He decided to bait the ferals into blundering in the traps, cut their numbers down so that in the unlikely event they survived the next few minutes of running through a maze filled with death traps, the odds against them wouldn't be quite so bad.

Jason didn't spare the bodies at the bottom of the pit another moment's notice as he turned to run, with the others following close behind. He'd lost count of the number of times that he'd seen death in the Labyrinth. The carcasses animals and the corpses of humans. Some freshly killed, others long dead. The mutilated bodies of children their own age and the ferals who had been trapped in here with them.

They'd all long since lost the capacity to be shocked by death.

Behind him, the dozen or so ferals that hadn't fallen into for his ambush took running leaps across the pit, coming to their feet on the far side of the pit and chasing after them instantly.

"Was this a good idea?" Lorena gasped to him as they ran.

If Jason could have shrugged while he ran, he would have. "It was an idea." He huffed back.

There was another *click* as someone stepped on another pressure plate. The woosh of a blade cutting through air became audible.

"Down!" Jason shouted, ducking underneath the three scythes that had sprung out of the walls. The others obeyed him instantly, sprawling onto the floor in order to avoid being killed outright by the spring loaded scythes.

Three of the ferals chasing them weren't so fortunate. The razor sharp blades sliced through them without resistance, cutting them to bloody shreds. One of them was disembowelled, dying so quickly that he didn't even have time to scream.

Another was bisected at the waist. The upper half of his body toppled backwards while his cleaved legs collapsed forwards, spilling internal organs onto the stone floor beneath the severed halves. He flailed around and screamed in a growing pool of his own blood for almost 10 seconds before realizing that he was dead.

Despite the continuing success of his plan, Jason's group wasn't given a moments respite.

The other ferals charged, kicking aside the bodies of their fellows in their effort to get within range of the children. Worse still, more traps sprang into life, swinging free from recessed housings hidden in the walls. A series of paired blades shaped like crescent moons began to swing perpendicular to the path, forcing Jason's group to move in bursts and fits in order to avoid being cut apart.

Jason was so focused on avoiding the blades that he didn't notice the feral that had caught up to him until he grabbed him by the shoulders.

Whatever the feral had intended, to do, Jason didn't give him a chance to do it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of silver from the side. Jason gripped the feral's wrists and lunged forward into the blade's path, hoping he'd gotten the timing right.

One moment the feral resisted, hoping to drag Jason back so that he could beat the young boy to death with his bare hands, the next, he roared in shock as his hands were severed from his body. Arterial blood painted the white granite floors as it shot forth from the stumps of his arms.

Jason kicked the feral away and rolled forward, clearing the last of the blades. The others were already ahead of him, turning around a corner.

"Come on!" James called out from where he waited, urging him onwards. As he ran, Jason wondered why he was moving so slowly compared to the others. And why he was feeling so lightheaded. Maybe it was the blood loss, minute as it was. He was already weak from his time in the Labyrinth. He shouldn't have cut himself, shouldn't hav-

"Look out!"

The feral caught Jason in a picture perfect tackle, driving the wind from his body as he landed on his stomach. From his position on the ground, with the feral on his back, there was no way Jason could fight effectively.

James was there in a heartbeat, diving onto the feral, knife in hand, just as the feral reared up to smash Jason's skull into the ground. The impact knocked the feral onto his back, with James on top. The ensuing struggled lasted for a few mere heartbeats, and ended when James rammed his blade down into his opponent's eye.

There was a faint *clink* of metal as the point struck the stone under the feral's head.

He was already moving as the feral's arms fell limp, grabbing Jason under one arm and picking him off the ground. "Come on." He told Jason. "We have to keep moving. The others went ahead to check for more traps."

Jason nodded, though it took him a few shaky steps before he recovered enough to start moving unaided again.

If he'd had a breath to spare, Jason would have thanked James for waiting, for saving him, even though it wasn't strictly necessary. He'd saved James' life plenty of times. They'd all saved each others lives too many times to count, but that wasn't the point. Even if they didn't know much about each other, the Labyrinth had forged a bond of unity between all of them that went beyond friendship.

That bond was the reason James pushed Jason forward, making sure that if the ferals caught up to them again, it would be himself and not Jason who would be forced to fight.

For a moment, it looked as if James' precaution might be necessary, as two more ferals rounded the corner. However, the moment the two ferals appeared was the same moment that the ground underneath their feet just… tilted.

Jason stumbled forward onto his hands and knees, confused, wondering why he felt off balance. Even though he was still on his hands and knees, the Labyrinth seemed to be moving. The reason for the visual disparity became clear within moments.

The portion of the Labyrinth floor that he and James had been standing, a section almost 30 feet long, had started to tilt forward, away from the corridor that they'd just come from. While it did stop more ferals other than the two that were already there from following them, it also meant that soon, James and Jason would be cut off from their friends.

With each passing second, the floor tilted further and further, opening a chasm in the ground like the maw of some gigantic monster. Jason knew there was a lot he didn't know about the Labyrinth, but he did know that falling into that cavernous opening was a very, very bad idea.

It didn't seem like he'd have much of a choice in the matter though; the angle of the floor was already steep enough to make remaining crouched very difficult. Soon, it would be a ramp rather than a floor.

He got to his feet and started running as best as he could, knowing that he had to try and reach the portion of the floor that had remained in place before he dropped too far to reach it.

"Run for it!" He called to James, who had thankfully realized the exact same thing and was always sprinting.

Jason ran as fast as he ever had before, pushing muscles that already felt like they were filled with battery acid to their limit, and even then, he barely managed to make the jump to safety. James, who had been further back on the tilting platform, tried to do the same, but by the time he got close enough to jump the ramp's angle had gotten even steeper, dropping his jump off point another two feet. He had no chance of reaching safety.

At least, not on his own.

"James!" Jason reached out as far as he could by lying prone on the edge of the floor, grabbing his friend by the hand and snatching him out of his free fall. Of course, it occurred to Jason that if things went wrong, James could inadvertently pull him down into the dark chasm that the ramp dropped into. The smooth stone ledge he was laying on had little in the way of handholds, and he just didn't have the leverage to resist being yanked off.

He had the briefest moment of selfish panic as James' added weight caused him to slide closer to the edge: he could let go of James and save himself. None of the others would ever know. He pushed the thought away and clutched on to James' wrist tighter.

The one unspoken rule they all heeded was that they would never abandon each other. If there was anything that had let them all survive this long in the Labyrinth, it was loyalty.

Jason pulled with all of his strength, but James' weight barely moved. He grit his teeth in frustration. He was too weak to do this on his own. "Guys, help me!" He called to the others, hoping that they weren't far enough ahead to come to the rescue.

James looked up at Jason, and the look on his face told him that he knew both the dangerous situation he was in, and the position he had put his friend in.

"Drop me," He said, without hesitation.

"Shut up." Jason replied. He tried to pull his friend up again, but failed. Even if Jason hadn't been exhausted and starved, leverage and physics meant that it would have been impossible.

"Drop me," James repeated, "or we're both gonna die."

"Shut up, James."

"Jason…"

Any further conversation between them was halted by the screams of the first feral as he slid into the darkness below them. The second pushed off the ramp and jumped, much as James had done.

At that point, the ramp had stopped tilting at a 60 degree angle, meaning that if the feral wanted to reach the safety of the floor that Jason was on, he would need to jump at least 10 feet. Unfortunately for the two friends, the feral had jumped with the intention of grabbing something else.

The feral's bony fingers closed around James' ankle, and the instant they did, Jason felt himself being yanked forward, into the void.

"Jason!" He heard the others cry out just as he slipped over the edge.

He struck the ramp with enough force to knock the wind out of him, and break his grip on James' hand. He had a glimpse of both James and the feral that had dragged them both down with him flailing as they slid down the ramp before the light disappeared as he himself slid away from the opening connecting them to the Labyrinth.

Fluid spurted out of several pipes, coating the ramp beneath him with a bright red slurry, sending him careening downwards along the slippery tunnel with no hope of slowing or stopping.

Twenty five meters. Fifty. A hundred.

The smell of a slaughterhouse permeated everything. Opening his mouth to shout was a mistake, as the instant he did so the smell became a taste as well, as the fluid from his descent sprayed into his face.

Gagging from the taste and unable to see from the rapid transition from glaring light to impenetrable darkness, Jason flailed out blindly, trying to grab hold of something that would allow him to halt his rapid descent, but there was nothing to be found. The smooth granite lacked any handholds, and even if there had been anything to grab onto his own hands were slick with blood and sweat. The best he could do was guide himself side to side slightly by shifting his body weight and leaning, a skill which rapidly proved essential to his survival as he slid further and further downwards.

Over the sound of running fluid, he heard a mechanical whirring that reminded him of a buzz saw from up ahead. Jason scrambled to lean aside and avoid the obstruction, unknowingly missing it by bare inches.

Several more implements of death passed by before the tunnel ended, leaving Jason flailing through the air as he fell. There were a good three or four seconds of free fall before he splash-landed into a pool of fluid.

The moment his head slipped below the liquid, Jason knew it was blood. He surfaced quickly, sputtering for breath, senses filled with the cloying, iron rich stink of old blood.

Once Jason managed to wipe the worst of the blood from his eyes, he took in his surroundings.

He was back in the rough stone caverns, though none of the ones he had been in previously had been quite like this one. There were several openings in the ceiling, with blood flowing from each one into the pool in a constant stream. Every now and then, there was a wet splash as something solid dropped into the pool just as Jason had.

The sound reminded Jason that he hadn't been alone in falling into this place.

"James!" He called out, voice echoing throughout the cavern. "James, are you there?!"

The only reply was the constant sound of running water as more blood flowed through various pipes and tunnels to join the pool.

He spotted a source of light further ahead and began to swim towards it, calling out for his friend every few minutes. Eventually, the pool started to get shallower, going from neck deep to waist deep, forcing him to wade rather than swim. Every now and then, he stumbled over a rock that had been hidden in the murky liquid, eliciting a curse from him each time.

As he got closer to the light, the sounds of pained breathing became audible. Jason quickened his pace, thinking that he'd finally found his friend.

"James?" He asked, sloshing his way towards the source of the noise. He caught sight of a small rocky island that had a familiar figure leaning against it, sitting half submerged in blood.

"James." Jason breathed in relief. He walked around the island rather than over it, not wanting to slip and hurt himself.

"Are you o-" The words died in Jason's throat. The instant he got close enough to see through the gloom clearly, he saw the source of the breathing, and what had happened to his friend.

Even rendered in red monotone, James' injuries were horrific. Deep cuts and gashes adorned his torso and limbs. The sole exception was his left arm, which was missing completely, ending in a neat stump just above where the elbow should have been.

James was undoubtedly dead. Even without all of the other wounds, it would have been clear from a cursory glance at his skull, the front of which was broken beyond recognition. Bits of bone and brain marked a spot on the rock where it had been smashed in.

James' feral killer was there too. He lay next to the young boy's broken body, teeth grit as he forced himself to take deep breaths. Just like his young victim, he too was decorated with wounds, and was clutching at a large gash in his stomach with both hands as he held his internal organs in place in his broken body.

His left eye was a mangled ruin, though his unharmed right eye still looked at Jason with an expression of pure hatred, undiluted by the pain he was sure to be in.

Jason met that stare levelly, feeling his own anger and frustration rising to the fore. The wounds and positions of the two bodies told him what had happened.

James and the feral had fought even as they fell through the tunnel, and both had been sliced apart by the death machinery that Jason himself had only avoided through sheer luck. Even without an arm, James must have fought hard, carving his feral opponent apart with his knife, then plucking out his opponent's eye when he'd lost his weapon. Of course, the end result demonstrated that the feral had given as good as he had got, killing Jason's friend by grappling his way into a superior position and then smashing his skull against the floor

Any sympathy Jason might have felt for his dying foe ebbed away as they stared at each other, his twin blue eyes meeting one eye yellow with jaundice. This… thing wasn't a man anymore. Nothing human could lay dying like this and still glare up at him with such stupidly bestial hate. Without a word, he turned and plunged his hands into the gory murk, searching.

He wasn't looking for his friend's missing knife. The pool of blood was so big that he could spend days searching and never find it. No, what Jason was looking for was much more simple than that.

After a few moments, he found a decently sized rock, almost half as big as his torso. Every muscle in his body strained as he lifted it from the pool and he carried it towards his wounded foe.

With a cry of bitterness, fury and frustration, Jason reared up and brought the stone crashing down onto the feral's head.

A bone breaking crack rang through the cavern, not unlike the sound of an egg shattering.

Whatever fragments of the feral's skull remained intact after the impact, it wasn't enough to keep him alive.

The deed done, Jason turned without another look. He left the corpses behind and continued on alone, moving further into a darkness dripping with blood.


	9. Never Left or Right

**The Batcave**

 **Gotham City**

 **January 17th, 2012**

 **17:24 EST**

 **Team Year One**

"You look like crap." Artemis noted as she stepped off the open elevator platform that had brought her down into the Batcave.

Dick tore his gaze from the screen in front of him and turned to look over his shoulder at his friend. At least, he tried to. The movement was stiff and sluggish on account of the many bandages and stitches covering his exposed torso. It had taken Alfred the better part of an hour to patch up all the wounds that Dick had received from the fight last night, and the last thing that he wanted to do was tear all the meticulously stitched cuts open.

Now that the adrenaline from the events of last night had worn off, each and every one of the wounds he'd received ached and throbbed as he moved. The fight with the mysterious assassins had been so intense that he didn't remember receiving half of them.

"You should see Bruce." Dick grunted as he finally managed to complete his turn.

"Seriously?" Artemis asked, an expression of surprise on her face. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the dark knight seriously injured. "What happened to you guys?"

Dick shrugged. "Assassins, sword fights, explosions. The usual."

A cursory glance told him that she must have come straight from school; she was still wearing her hated Gotham Academy uniform.

"What brings you all the way out here?" He asked her, which was a valid question. Batman didn't have a Zeta Tube installed in the cave, and Wayne Manor was a relatively long trip from her home in the East End.

It was Artemis' turn to shrug. "You missed class. I was worried."

Dick suppressed a small smirk, though he tried to hide it. Artemis always put on a tough front so that people wouldn't see how vulnerable she truly was, but it was always endearing to see that she cared.

"Plus," she continued, pulling a handful of papers from her backpack, "Barb wanted me to make sure you got your homework."

Dick groaned, but took the papers from Artemis and flipped through them. It wouldn't take more than an hour to get through, but it would be tedious, and he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Artemis took advantage of Dick's momentary distraction to glance at the screen that he'd been working on. A meaningless scroll of names, numbers and code flashed across the screen. "What're you working on?"

"A difficult case." He put his homework to one side and hit a few keys on the bat-computer's keyboard, bringing up the relevant files and images for Artemis to skim through.

"About two weeks ago, Batman and I met a kid named Jason Todd and sent him over to the Catherine Hershey school. Yesterday, we got word from Commissioner Gordon that he'd gone missing. We went to the school to see if we could find any leads on what happened to him and ended up being ambushed by a group of assassins working for something called the Court of Owls."

He pointed up at the corner of the screen, where the image of a man with inverted eyes was displayed. "He was their leader. Called himself Shrike."

Artemis frowned as she looked at the picture. "What's the Court of Owls?"

"We have no clue." Dick sighed in frustration. "The assassins blew themselves up when they realized that they were going to lose. We've been looking since the attack and haven't found anything. Batman's never heard of it, and I can't find any references to it in anywhere."

Artemis' frown deepened. It was rare for Batman to have never heard of something. "Do you have any leads?"

"Not many." Dick admitted. He gestured over to the side, where several items sat arranged on top of a high-tech scanning bed. The mask that Robin had removed from Shrike. The swords and throwing knives the assassins had dropped in their fight. Charred pieces of limbs and barely identifiable chunks of tissue.

"Most of the physical evidence was obliterated in the explosions. We've run their DNA through all the databases we could and come up with nothing. Their gear is also untraceable. We're analyzing what's left, but nothing yet. Batman's back at the school, looking for anything we missed." Dick sighed. "All we really know for certain is that the Court of Owls is good."

He tapped at the keyboard again, bringing up a series of case files bearing the GCPD's logo. "Look at this."

Artemis moved so that she was standing next to Dick's chair and peered at the display. Dozens of names and faces populated the screen, each identifying a child between the ages of 10 to 13. "What am I looking at?"

"GCPD missing persons reports. Specifically, children listed as missing from the Catherine Hershey School. Notice anything?"

Artemis frowned. Some of the kidnappings stretched back decades, with some going all the way back to the 70s, when the GCPD had started keeping track of missing kids. She realized what she was supposed to be looking for as she read the dates listed on the files.

"Like clockwork… One kid disappears every four years. Jason was just the latest."

"Right." Dick confirmed. "And those are just the disappearances that we have official records for. Unofficially, I managed to dig up reports of similar disappearances stretching all the way back to the school's founding."

"Why?" Artemis asked, incredulous. For a school to have this many missing kids… Granted, this was Gotham City, but still, even accounting for the fact that a boarding school oriented towards strays and orphans would probably have more runaways and disappearances, how had someone not noticed?

"I don't know." Dick said. He was clearly frustrated, which was understandable. He'd been trying to come up with the answer to that question for the last few hours. The problem was, he didn't know if that was the right question to ask.

At first, both he and Batman had based their theories on the assumption that Jason had been kidnapped because someone was trying to bait them; after all, it was a common enough strategy amongst their regular rogue's gallery. But now that he'd dug deeper and found the reports of serial disappearances, he was forced to come up with new theories to work around.

It was like trying to put together a puzzle, except he didn't have all the pieces, he didn't know which pieces he had were useful, and he had no idea what the final image would look like.

Knowing that a child's life was likely on the line, his inability to figure the situation out was maddening.

"Any ideas?" Dick asked her. "I could use a fresh pair of eyes on this."

Artemis hesitated, considering how she could best contribute. It wasn't that Artemis thought she wasn't smart enough to help, or that she was intimidated by the fact that her mentor wasn't a world renowned detective. The simple truth was that most of the things that she could think of right then and there would have already occurred to him. If she wanted to help, she needed to draw on the resources and skills that she had exclusive access to.

"How good were the assassins who attacked you?" She asked.

"Very."

"League of Shadows good?" She pressed.

"No. Better. Much better."

Artemis considered that for a moment before pulling out her phone. "I'll ask my mom if she heard of anyone like them when she was part of the League. They try to keep tabs on anyone that has skills like that."

"Thanks."

As Artemis took a few steps away so that she could call her mom without disturbing Dick, an automated notification popped up on the Bat-computer's screen to tell him that the detailed scan he'd been running on the assassin's bodies was done.

"Whoa…" Dick breathed as he read through the results.

Almost every biological sample that he and Batman managed to collect displayed some evidence of either chemical or genetic manipulation. For example, the assassin's blood contained cells that looked like normal platelets, but upon closer inspection, appeared to function much more effectively, clotting in a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Fragments of bone revealed that their skeletons had been coated in a porous material that allowed biological materials to pass through, but was as strong and as light as titanium. There were even remnants of organs that the bat-computer didn't recognize as human.

No wonder he hadn't been able to find a match in any of the databases he'd looked at. Even something as fundamental as their DNA had been re-written to include what looked like distinct strands of animal genes. This was almost Cadmus level gene-manipulation; there were parts that barely looked human anymore.

It wasn't just the sheer scale of the enhancements that Dick found overwhelming, but also the amount of time it must have taken to implement them. He'd seen full body augmentation and reconstruction before, of course, but it wasn't something you could do all at once. Even with advanced tech from STAR Labs, someone undergoing this much surgery and gene therapy would need, at best, several years to adjust to all the changes being wrought on his or her body.

 _Years…_ Dick realized with a start, as a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

Working quickly, he minimized everything on the computer screen except for the picture of Shrike's face that the cameras built into his mask had captured, then opened up a program that had been designed for forensic investigators so that they could "age" pictures of young children to find out what they might look like several years after their respective disappearances.

Dick ran the process in reverse, taking a scan of Shrike's face and reversing the aging process so that it displayed an approximation of what Shrike might have looked like at the age of 12. Granted, the image was very, very, very rough, but at least it gave him something to work with. He ran the image through every database concerning missing children that he had access to, both within the US and internationally.

Even with a super computer as powerful as the one that was built into the Batcave, the search still took a few minutes.

That gave Dick a moment to ponder. And to hope he was wrong. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Artemis was done with her phone call until she was standing next to him.

"Nothing." She told him, tucking her phone away. "My mom says she'll ask around though."

He looked over at her. "Are you sure? I don't want her to get into any trouble."

Artemis waved his concerns away. "It's fine. She knows how to take care of herself. Besides, I think she likes being able to help with hero stuff. It gives her something to do besides sit around the house all day, you know?"

"Mmm." Dick conceded. He could empathize with that.

He sighed, rubbing his face, giving his eyes a rest. He'd been working non-stop on this since the ambush last night. Just because he was used to long hours of work didn't mean that it never caught up with him. It was just hard to focus on things that seemed as trivial as food and sleep when someone's life was on the line.

"Are you alright?" Artemis asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." Dick said, pushing himself upright in his chair. "It's just been a rough day."

"You should get some rest." She said. Dick glanced at her. He recognized that tone. Despite phrasing it as a suggestion, Artemis' voice made clear that she was prepared to frog march him upstairs if she thought it would be necessary.

Oh, to have an big sister like Artemis.

"I'm just gonna finish this search, then I'll grab a quick nap." Dick promised.

Artemis crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. It wouldn't have been the first time that he'd made a similar promise to her, only for her to return hours later to find him slumped over the keyboard, fast asleep.

"I will." He insisted when she didn't budge.

She continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before she uncrossed her arms. Inwardly, Dick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fine." Artemis said as she made her way back towards the elevator leading up to the manor. "But if you don't give Zatanna a call by the time I get back from the Cave, I _will_ beat the crap out of you."

"Fair enough." He conceded.

Artemis rolled her eyes, but gave a quick wave goodbye as the elevator doors slid shut.

The computer chimed in with a notification, letting him know that the search was done. Facial recognition had found a relatively close match for a child that had gone missing in Oregon.

"Matthew Board." Dick said to himself, reading the name at the top of the report. Born to David and Serena Board, September 1975. The youngest of four children. Reported as missing January 16th, 1988. The official notes listed it as likely the child had run away from , it hadn't been his parents who had reported Matthew as missing, but a teacher at the school he had gone to. He ran a quick check and found that both the mother and father had criminal records, mostly for drug related offenses, though there were more than a few citations from Child Protection Services as well.

Dick's discomfort was starting to grow. It felt like the picture on the puzzle was starting to become clearer. Matthew matched Jason's profile almost exactly. A child from a rough background, around the age of 12, whose disappearance wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

This being the United States, which maintained a national database of missing children, there were DNA records for Matthew on file that Dick could access. He pulled these up and compared them to the samples that he had recovered from Shrike.

After Dick edited the sequences of animal DNA and removed them from the analysis, they were almost a perfect match.

Shrike was, or had been, Matthew Board.

Dick's blood ran cold at the realization. Whatever the Court of Owls was, it had been kidnapping children in order to turn them into super-powered sociopathic killers. They'd been doing it in Gotham for years, decades even, right under their noses.

And he and Batman had put Jason right in their path.

—

 **The Labyrinth**

 **Location Unknown**

 **Time Unknown**

Jason knew he was going to die.

That was his only rational thought as he stumbled forward through the dark, displaying none of the learned caution or stealth that he normally would have used. In truth, he was so consumed by the realization of his impending demise that he was scarcely aware of his surroundings, moving forward out of stubbornness rather than any real hope of going anywhere.

He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The way he would die was irrelevant. Cut apart by another booby trap. Bludgeoned to death by the fists of ferals and torn apart to be eaten. Finally succumbing to the gnawing pit of hunger and thirst that was welling up inside of him. It would all mean the same thing in the end: dying, alone, down in the dark.

Strange, to think of his death in such dispassionate terms. In a way, the only thing that surprised him was the fact that he was still alive.

He hadn't seen any signs of life for…

He didn't know.

He didn't remember.

He didn't care.

Lorena. Joseph. Chris. Sean. They all probably thought he was dead.

Maybe they were right. It certainly felt like he was in hell right now.

For all he knew, they were the ones who were dead. The tunnels reeked of so much decay and abandonment that he couldn't really believe that there was anyone friendly left in the world. Moving through the darkness, still covered with clotting blood and other visceral filth, he felt so cut off and isolated from everything that nothing felt real.

One of the few reassuring things he still felt was the weight of the knife in his hand. He vaguely recalled prying it, his own hands still sticky with blood, from the grasp of a fragmented skeleton that he'd tripped over as he'd stumbled through the dark. Judging from the size of the remains, it had probably belonged to a past aspirant. One who had fallen into the blood pool, just as he had, and somehow died, just as he would.

The knowledge had scared him at first. He had stared at the knife for a long time, knowing that he could have turned the weapon on himself, ended all of the pain that he had endured and the pain sure to come by slitting his own throat.

The prospect had, admittedly, been tempting.

But Jason hadn't done it. Instead, he thought back to when he'd found James' body.

His friend had known he was going to die the moment he realized he'd been caught in the floor trap that had dumped both of them down here. Even with everything that had happened to him, he'd gone down fighting, quite literally tearing the guts out of his feral killer.

Even in death, James would have avenged himself had Jason not intervened.

That seemed like a good example to follow.

If Jason was going to die no matter what he did, he wanted to die doing something, die fighting his fate. As much as he wanted the suffering to end, he wouldn't take the easy way out. As much pain as it would bring, he would keep moving, resist, even if brought him to the bitterest of ends.

Jason clutched his looted knife tighter and kept moving forwards.

It was as good a direction as any other.


	10. The Fountain

**The Labyrinth**

 **Location Unknown**

 **Time Unknown**

Jason was no stranger to horror, but even he was shocked by the scale of the carnage in front of him.

The caverns that he'd followed had led him to a room that was a vertical tunnel, with a diameter of roughly 50 feet. There were chains everywhere, anchored into the rock face, crisscrossing at angles or else hanging vertically.

There were also bodies. Dozens. Hundreds. Body upon body upon body cast in every direction. Some floated in the knee deep blood, stained and swollen from rot, while others were piled up on top of each other in uneven piles around the circumference of the room. Some even hung from the chains overhead, like carcasses at an abattoir.

The omnipresent smell of blood had covered up the stench somewhat as he approached, but now that he was here, the smell was strong enough to have a physical presence. It struck Jason like a punch.

He had a moment to take in the sight before he gagged and doubled over. Between his spasming lungs and noxious stomach, he was forced to stagger over to the tunnel entrance for support. His guts seized, and he choked out a thin gruel of vomit into the blood at his feet.

Fighting against his spasming body, Jason raised the collar of his bloodstained shirt over his nose and mouth, filling his senses with the smell of old blood; compared to the stench of decay, it was almost pleasant.

He raised his head and tried to stand upright again. Even through his watering eyes, he could see it. The bodies were all his size. These were, or had been, fellow aspirants. It was tough to tell because of the decomposition, but Jason guessed that they had been here for a long, long time.

Fellow aspirants from a past trial then, dumped down here after being killed by… He peered at the corpses for some clue, but it was tough to tell what had killed them. Still, the fact that the bodies were still relatively intact meant that ferals hadn't done this. Ferals would have torn these bodies apart in order to feed themselves, rather than disposing of them in a pit like this.

So who, or what, had dumped the corpses down here? There was only one way to find out.

He turned his gaze upwards. The light coming from the shaft opening far above his head created an illuminated circle in his vision no large than a penny held up to his face would have.

Jason grabbed the closest length of blood slick chain and started to climb.

—

 **New York City**

 **January 18th, 2018**

 **15:29 EST**

"Did the Talonmaster say why he needed me to come to Parliament Grove?" Dr. Valentin asked as he entered his office through the door his assistant Cynthia was holding open for him.

"I'm afraid not, doctor." Cynthia replied apologetically as she closed the door behind him. "He only told me that the order had come from the Grandmaster himself."

She was actually still holding the very message that had ordered to drop everything and proceed to the Court's HQ at once. The personal summons was odd for two reasons. One, the doctor had already been scheduled to fly to Parliament Grove next week to perform the augmentations, so the summons demanding his immediate presence meant that something involving the aspirants was going on. Two, the summons had ordered him to leave his staff behind and make his way to Parliament Grove alone.

"Strange. Oh yes. Very strange." hummed to himself in thought as he walked towards his desk at a slow but comfortable pace, as was the prerogative for a man of his age and stature. In addition to being ninety six years old, was an M.D, a multiple P.H.D, and twice, the recipient of the Nobel Prize for his work in the field of medicine.

The Court of Owls rewarded its members well. Particularly so with , one of its brightest minds, and the man who had invented the enhancements that were now standard for all Talons. His research never lacked for funding, and entire wing of the medical complex they were currently standing in was devoted exclusively for his use.

Likewise, despite his advanced age, he didn't look a day over sixty. Unknown to the public at large, this wasn't thanks to any random gift of genetics, but to the cutting edge medical treatments that he underwent on a fairly regular basis.

was still humming to himself as he reached his desk and picked up the five files that had placed there.

The files he flipped through contained detailed medical histories for five different individuals. Each file had a name stenciled onto the front: Joseph Wilson. Chris Donnelly. Sean Donnelly. Lorena Hidalgo. Jason Todd.

The doctor didn't notice, mostly because he didn't care. The names were meaningless to him. The only thing he was focused on was the medical information contained on the pages, which would tell him how he'd need to adjust the various procedures that he was expected to perform. The augmentations had to be tailored to each individual. Already, he was performing the surgery in his mind, fingers twitching as he rehearsed the adjustments he was planning to make in order to ensure success.

Cynthia looked at the files with barely concealed interest, trying to suppress the disappointment she felt. She knew that it was a great honor for her to have been accepted as his assistant, but she was still disappointed with the abrupt change in orders: she'd wanted to help perform the augmentation surgeries for the first time.

For many years, the Doctor had been concerned only with his own research, and not with passing on his vast knowledge to the next generation of scholars beginning their service to the Court. The only reason he'd consented to doing so now had been a good natured reminder from the Grandmaster that he wasn't a young man any more.

Despite the fact that she was barely 22 and had no formal medical training to speak of, after several years under 's expert tutelage, Cynthia was now capable of successfully performing surgeries that most experienced surgeons would have considered too difficult with ease.

Soon, it would be her turn to oversee the surgeries that transformed young children into Talons. Working with the versatile perfection of the human form, making into more than what it was. Making aspirants more than what they were.

She couldn't wait.

"Is the plane ready?" He asked her distractedly as he continued to peruse the files.

"Yes doctor. It's fueled and waiting for you at Teeterboro. There's a car waiting downstairs that will take you to the heliport."

"Good. Good. I'll read these on the plane then." Dr. Valentin closed the files and began to tuck them into his briefcase.

"I can handle that." Cynthia said, moving to help him.

Doctor Valentin waved her away with a smile. "No, no, my dear, please. This much I can manage."

Cynthia stepped back reluctantly. "As you wish, Doctor."

He smiled at her knowingly, a grandfather looking at a precocious grandchild. "Do try not to look so disappointed my dear. I know you were hoping to assist me in performing the augmentations. It can't be helped. Our orders are clear. The Grandmaster calls, and we obey."

He reached out and stroked her cheek affectionately with the pad of his thumb, as if brushing away invisible tears. "Next time, my dear, next time."

She resisted the urge to give a disappointed huff. "Yes Doctor. I understand. Noctis Aeternum."

"Noctis Aeternum." The Doctor replied as he slipped the briefcase's strap over his shoulder. "Oh yes, that reminds me, I left my favorite surgical tools downstairs in the lab. Would you get them for me please?"

Cynthia was already moving towards the door. "Of course Doctor. I'll meet you downstairs at the car."

"Thank you my dear." The Doctor called after her.

—

Neither Cynthia nor knew it, but they hadn't been the only parties to the conversation that they'd just had.

A laser, invisible to the naked eye, had been pointed at the window of the office that they'd been speaking in. It had measured the faint vibrations in the glass caused by frequencies of the human voice, which in turn allowed their voices to be recorded from a rooftop several hundred feet away.

"You were right." Robin told his mentor. " is involved with the Court of Owls."

Batman didn't look up, but instead continued to watch through a pair of powerful binoculars as the elderly man left his office. In fact, the binoculars were so powerful that Batman had been able to read the names written on the files that had just flipped through.

Even now, Robin was searching governmental records for children matching those names.

Between the caped crusader's near encyclopedic knowledge of all human (and some alien) science, and the Batcave's supercomputer, the same genetic splicing and augmentation that had stymied Robin's earlier efforts at identifying the Talons had ended up generating their most promising lead: Dr. Lazlo Valentin, pioneer in the field of human enhancement.

From recovered bone fragments, Batman had been able to determine that the Talons' skeletons had been coated with a carbon ceramic compound that made their bones virtually unbreakable, but was semi-permeable, allowing cells and other biological materials to pass through. Their blood contained artificial platelets that both allowed for greater oxygenation, and for wounds to clot faster.

Both enhancements were extensions of medical concepts that had explored in his scholarly works. Not enough to prove that he was involved in Jason's kidnapping, but more than enough to make him a person of interest in the dynamic duo's investigation.

Batman actually already had a file put together on Dr. Valentin prior to the ambush; he tried to keep records on high-level intellects around the world, just in case they either created or became a threat in the future.

Admittedly, it was a touch paranoid, but then, considering the number of super-villains who had originally been geniuses who lost their way, it was a practice that had proven surprisingly helpful.

That was certainly the case here.

Robin's computer chimed, projecting the information the Batcomputer had found onto the holographic display. "Got a match on two of them. Sean and Chris Donnelly, brothers. Ran away from an orphanage in Dublin. Nothing on any of the others yet."

Batman frowned. After a few moments, and his assistant emerged from the glass faced tower that their research lab was located in. The doctor accepted a leather doctors bag from his assistant and gave her a hug goodbye before being helped into the car by a uniformed chauffeur. Once he were in, the chauffeur got in and drove the car east, towards the FDR.

At that moment, the dynamic duo had a choice. They could stop the car now, capture the doctor and attempt to force him to reveal where Jason and the other children were being held captive. Or they could try to follow as he flew to wherever he was ultimately going.

Logically, following from a distance made the most sense. Fear and intimidation were useful tools, especially in Batman's hands, but they weren't always effective. Every moment the doctor managed to keep silent if captured would be another moment for the Court of Owls to cover their tracks. Similarly, a confrontation in the streets of New York would only serve to let the Court of Owls know that Batman was on to them, and might even draw the attention of more augmented assassins.

Finally, the fact that the good doctor was bringing his surgical tools, along with the medical files of the kidnapping victims, was an indication that this "Parliament Grove" that had mentioned was where the kids were being held.

Decision made, Batman tucked his binoculars back into his utility belt and pulled out his grapnel launcher.

"Let's go." He told his young partner. "We'll get to the batwing and follow his plane from a distance."

"Got it."

—

The chains rattled in Jason's hands as he pulled himself up, drawing himself that much closer to the light above him.

From below, what he thought had been an open tunnel-shaft had ended up resolving into a sort of platform with parts of it cut away in a circular pattern, similar to a piece of paper that had been perforated so that it could be easily torn away. Some of the chains had been attached to the bottom of this platform, while others, such as the chain that Jason was clinging to, ran up through the openings and into the brightly lit room.

The light shining through those openings was so intense that even though he wasn't illuminated yet, Jason's eyes were already watering.

His arms and legs screamed with fatigue, but he tuned out the pain and kept climbing. He'd been able to snatch breaks on lengths of chain that had been strung horizontally across the tunnel, but the last few dozen yards had given him no such respite. It he was going to make it up there, it needed to be soon.

One more pull upwards.

He wasn't going to let himself die from something as stupid as a fall.

Another pull.

Not now, not when he was so close.

Shouting with the effort, Jason pulled himself up into the light. Squinting against the glare, it felt like his eyes were being stabbed from within, but he managed to make out the vague shape of the floor beneath him. Screaming muscles loosened their grip on the blood slick chain, and he immediately started to fall towards the edge of the opening in the floor.

His feet gave out from underneath him as soon as they touched the ground, his twitching muscles rebelling at having been used for so long, causing him to land in a breathless heap. Even with his eyes closed, his vision was bleached white by the intense light. Blinded and helpless, Jason could do nothing beyond groan and try to work his muscles loose as they continued to suffer pain induced spasms.

At first, he heard nothing beyond the racing drumbeat of his own heart and his ragged gasps for breath. Gradually, as he continued to lay on the cold stone floor and regained a measure of his strength, he became aware of another sound.

The spatter of water splashing as it fell from a great height.

He shot upright. The sound was close, definitely in the same room as him. Was this the fountain? Had he accidentally stumbled upon his way out of the Labyrinth? Jason pushed himself onto his hands and knees and crawled towards the sound, careful to feel his way around the openings in the floor that he'd just climbed up out of.

Jason opened his eyes experimentally, squinting against the glare. He was back in portion of the Labyrinth that had been built from white granite. Just like the tunnel that he'd climbed out of, this room was circular, with one entrance.

As Jason's eyes finally adjusted the light, he caught sight of the fountain and stepped back in shock.

When the Talon who'd forced him into the Labyrinth had mentioned needing to reach a Fountain, Jason had thought of the relatively small structures that he'd seen when he'd slept in some of Gotham's parks. He hadn't been expecting this.

The Fountain here was easily 40 feet tall and just as wide, sculpted to resemble an owl with its wings outstretched, swooping in for the kill. It stood directly opposite from the room's sole entrance. Despite the scale of the statute, it was incredibly detailed; Jason could see the details of every feather etched into the fine marble. Water flowed freely from the owl's open mouth into pool in a basin at its feet.

To Jason, the water in the basin seemed impossibly bright and clear and pristine.

But there was something else too, something that he only glimpsed now that his eyes were adjusting.

A lone humanoid figure, easily twice Jason's heigh and width, stood just behind the curve of the owl statue's head. A cursory glance revealed that it had once been human. Once, perhaps, but no longer.

Two bony hands were crossed over its bare chest, the fingers of which ended in long, razor sharp talons roughly the size of Jason's knife. What flesh that Jason could see was dark and mottled grey, covered with what looked like a layer of down, as if feathers were starting to emerge from beneath the skin. Surgical scars cut bright lines through the fluff, radiating outwards from its eyelids, but also, curiously, from the edges of its mouth. It stood upon two heavily muscled legs, but the knees of those legs were hinged to bend forwards, rather than backwards.

As if sensing it was being watched, the creature opened its eyes. Blue eyes filled with fearful awe met white eyes filled with sadistic amusement. For several thundering heartbeats of almost hilarious silence, they stared at each other.

It took in a great, stinking, huffing breath, and screamed.

The sound was unlike anything Jason had ever heard before. It had pieces of a child's voice woven into it, but they were overlaid with something inhuman, like the cry of a bird of prey. The sound knifed into his brain. His hands slammed over his ears, trying to block over a hundred decibels of bone rattling sound, but it didn't help. It was as if the sound had stabbed into his torso directly, rattling his organs like jello. Jason didn't realize it, but as he stumbled from the pain, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, just as the creature was.

By the time Jason realized the beast had stopped its nightmarish cry and jumped, it was a dark blur that was coming at him in a neat parabolic trajectory.

Ears still ringing, Jason barely had the presence of mind to dive aside, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the monster as it landed. The force of the impact sent a spiderweb of cracks radiating outwards through the granite of the floor.

Jason got to his feet and drew his knife quickly, but the weapon was no longer the reassuring weight it had been in the blood tunnels. It looked pathetically small in his hands, especially given the size of the creature in front of him. Of all the fights that he'd ever had, he couldn't think of one that had ever looked more one sided.

The creature lunged at him again, coming at him with great swings of its talons. It was big, and fast for its size, but the sheer disparity in their sizes meant that Jason was a small target, and relatively faster. Not by much, but enough to keep him alive. Jason dodged expertly, jumping back each time it swung, keeping himself out of the arcs of its attacks. Every few swings, he was able to counter with a slash of his own, cutting into the creature's muscled forearms.

The creature screeched in frustration as time and again its claws bit into rock and air, rather than the soft flesh that it sought.

Jason knew that he couldn't match the creature's monstrous strength. A glancing blow might not kill him outright, but it might daze him long enough for the creature to finish the job, which meant he needed to stay out of its range until he could find an opening. He was so focused on dodging that he didn't realize he'd reached the edge of the room till his back slammed against the wall.

He was cornered. Sensing his distraction, the creature stiffened the fingers of its right hand and thrust them forward, seeking to impale the young boy on its claws and end this contest.

The light glinted off of the creature's talons as they came right at Jason's torso. Rather than dodging to the side, Jason jumped and rolled forward. The creature tried to angle its attack to follow him, but Jason closed the distance between them too quickly, and its claws punched their entire length into the floor.

Despite its unplanned nature, this was the opening that Jason had been hoping for. He was too close for the monster to bring its other hand to bear, and with its claws embedded, it couldn't move away. Before the creature could pull its talons out, Jason charged, stabbing his knife repeatedly into its ankle. It was too big for him to try and kill in one grand stroke, so he would try and kill it with many small wounds instead, crippling it to a degree that his victory would be assured.

Screaming once more, this time in pain, the creature finally withdrew its claws where they'd been embedded in the floor. Now free to maneuver once more, it stomped at Jason, trying to drive him away.

Even though it was dangerous, Jason refused to retreat, knowing that if he did he'd end up back in talon range for the creature. At least here, he could do some damage and fight back. He avoided another stomp then jumped, stabbing the monster in the bottom of the thigh, then in the back of the knee, slashing whatever flesh he could reach to bloody ruin.

Slowly, the monster began to topple, arms flailing in a very human way as it fell. On their own, the wounds would have been trivial, but together, they had robbed it of it of its ability to stand. The monsters screams of pain merged with Jason's shouts of triumph as it finally landed with a heavy thud.

Jason ducked under a wild blow that would have taken his head off and dove on top of the creature. The creature's massive hands loomed over him, long talons slicing into the monster's own flesh as they tried to grab the small boy and throw him aside. Just as they were about to close on him, Jason pounced from where he'd landed.

His blade punched into the bottom of the creature's chin, and, driven by the kind of desperate strength that only someone fighting for his life can achieve, through its skull, and up into the soft grey matter of its brain. Instantly, the monster's eyes glazed over, and its limbs crashed against the floor.

For a surprisingly long amount of time, Jason was content to lie there, catching his breath. Without the surge of adrenaline that had come from seeing the monster, he felt drained and exhausted. The fight's intensity had more than made up for its short length.

It took several attempts, but eventually, Jason managed to gather enough strength to slide off the monster's chest. He planed a foot against its massive skull and yanked his knife free, wiping it off on his pants leg and tucking it back into its sheath. The gore did little to change the appearance of his already blood-stained clothing.

Jason started moving towards the Fountain.

He'd done it. He'd overcome everything the Labyrinth had thrown at him, beaten this monster, and soon he'd drink from the Fountain and this would all be-

A noise, deep and full bellied, came from the monster's mouth.

Startled, Jason glanced back at the huge corpse. There were a few moments of quiet, during which he thought the noise had been some sort of long delayed death rattle, when the corpse made the noise again.

The former corpse started moving again, rolling itself over, planting its arms against the floor and pushing itself onto its feet. The monster turned, once glazed over eyes now clear and focused. Toxically rich blood poured from the wound in the bottom of its chin, staining the down emerging from its skin, but within seconds, that flow became a trickle, and then stopped completely as the flesh knit itself together before Jason's horrified eyes.

The wounds that Jason had inflicted on its legs were similarly closed over. There was nothing to suggest the monster had even been hurt, apart from faint pinkish-white scars that were barely visible on its skin.

The monster shivered slightly as it continued to make the noise, something between a grunt and a gurgle. It was only when the noise got louder, when the creature's pale lips pulled back in a grim parody of a smile revealing two rows of teeth that had been filed to sharp points, that Jason realized what the monster was doing.

It was laughing.

The instant Jason's hand went for his knife was the same instant the monster charged, faster than his eyes could follow. If he'd had any doubts about the monster's intentions before, they were banished now: It had been toying with him the whole time.

A blur that was one of its claws swept out in a brutal backhand.

Two cracks echoed through the vast open space of the cavern. The first was of Jason's ribs breaking as the monster sent him flying across the room. The second was of his head colliding with the floor as he landed.

His last thought, before his consciousness began to fade, was to wonder if his corpse would soon join the others at the bottom of the shaft.


	11. At What Price Victory?

**The Labyrinth**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Time Unknown**

Jason's consciousness faded into blackness for a moment before being banished by the blindingly bright light. When it passed, he tasted blood in his mouth, and felt fiery pain in his chest. Blood flowed freely from a wound on his temple that he'd sustained when he landed, dripping down and blinding him in one eye. The beast was a bright grey blur in his vision.

His knife was gone, lost in the impact. He tried to get to his feet, but couldn't remember how to do it. The best he could do was crawl away from the monster, dragging himself along the floor with the only arm that wasn't clutching at his broken ribs.

The beast was smiling, sharp teeth bared as it moved to close the distance between them. Its heavy footfalls sent rhythmic tremors through the floor, growing in intensity as it grew closer.

Its shadow loomed over Jason for a moment, which thankfully blocked out the bright light, before a multi-jointed, clawed foot landed on the small of his back. Jason was slammed face first into the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs.

The monster could have ended him with no effort at all, stamped down and reduce his torso to nothing but pulped meat and bone, but instead it took its time. It increased the pressure it exerted slowly, intending to cause as much pain and suffering as it could before its crippled prey expired.

For the next few moments, the silence was broken only by the sound of Jason's strangled breaths as he felt himself being crushed into the floor.

"Hey!" A familiar voice shouted from the room's entrance. "Leave him alone!"

Jason didn't have the strength to lift his head and look, but he didn't need to see in order to recognize that voice.

Lorena. Judging by the sounds of multiple pairs of feet slapping against the floor, the others were still alive too. The pain from the beating he'd received did nothing to dampen his happiness at the realization.

He would have warned them away, told them to run, but he didn't have the breath necessary to do so.

The pressure on Jason's chest eased slightly as the monster turned its head to observe his friends. With something between a growl and a laugh, the towering monster wrapped its clawed toes around Jason's torso and threw him.

HIs vision was nothing more than a blur of motion as he flew threw the air. Jason caught a brief glimpse of Joseph's determined expression right before he crashed into him, sending them both tumbling backwards. His silent comrade hadn't had any hope of catching him outright, but he did his best to cushion Jason's fall with his own body.

For their part, Lorena, Chris and Sean didn't even slow down to check on them; they knew their only hope of surviving the next few minutes was to seize the initiative and attack with everything they had left.

Joseph rolled Jason off of himself and got up to his feet. He spared Jason a quick glance, making sure his friend was still breathing before he ran to help the others.

"Get clear!" Chris shouted back at Jason. "We'll take care of whatever the hell this thing is!"

As much as he wanted to help them, Jason knew that Chris was right. He couldn't fight. He could barely move. If he tried to join them, the only thing that he would be was a liability. The only thing he could do was watch, and try to stay out of the way. In compliance with Chris' instructions, Jason dragged himself towards the entrance and leaned back heavily against the wall.

There wasn't any point in going any further; the next few minutes would decide if he lived or died with his friends.

The others fought for their lives as they closed into reach of the monster. They were clearly more rested that he had been, and even better, with superior numbers on their side they were able to use the same pack tactics that had served them so well in the outer Labyrinth. Sean, Chris and Lorena engaged it from the front, while Joseph took advantage of the distraction to try and attack it from behind.

Any normal opponent fighting on his own against them would have been surrounded and overwhelmed. Some of their slashes and stabs cut deep enough that bone was visible through the torn flesh and muscle of the monster's limbs. But the monster wasn't a normal opponent. In truth, it didn't even notice the grievous wounds it was suffering.

Why would it, when it could regenerate even when dead, and come back to life healed and whole?

The monster clawed at them, drove them back with wide sweeps of its claws even as they cut it to pieces. Frustrated with their apparent inability to do any damage, Sean leapt forward and jumped at the monster, kicking off one the monster's arms that had been in mid swing to give himself more elevation.

He grabbed a handful of its grey feathery flesh as he thudded against its chest in order to keep himself from falling off, and brought his knife to bear.

"Die!" Sean shouted, stabbing it in the heart again and again and again. "Just die!"

Bright arterial blood spurted forth from the wounds, painting Sean's pale features and blinding him. Even worse, his efforts were just as useless as Jason's had been; as soon as the blade pulled free from the monster's flesh, every wound began to knit itself shut, closing within seconds.

Heedless of the other children attacking its lower body, the creature reached for Sean. Blinded by the blood he had spilled, the irish boy nevertheless felt the muscles of the monster's torso moving beneath him and released his grip, dropping a solid 10 feet to the ground. The impact left him dazed, struggling to wipe the stinging blood from his eyes.

Still the monster was relentless, bending low to pick him up in its claws.

Taking advantage of his brother's distraction, Chris shouted and lunged. An almost deafening roar of pain reverberated throughout the cavern as Chris' knife punched into the monster's right eye all the way up to the hilt.

Despite his own past experience, Jason was hopeful that the blow might have been enough to kill the monster, but it gave no sign of toppling over.

Still bent low, the monster's free hand came up, trying to pluck the weapon from its eye, but here its enhancements worked against it. With the long talons on its hands and relative size, it lacked the dexterity required to pull the knife free. After several failed attempts, it roared again, and its sole remaining eye fixed on the child that had dared to injure it so. Its gaze was no longer colored by amusement.

Foolishly, Chris wasn't looking at the monster. Instead, he held out a hand to help his brother, who had finally managed to clear the worst of the blood from his eyes. "C'mon!" Chris urged as Sean reached for his outstretched hand.

Jason watched the monster take in a deep breath. "Look out!" He shouted.

Hearing the urgency in Jason's voice, Chris yanked Sean to his feet and stepped forward to shield his brother from whatever attack the monster was preparing.

It was the last thing he ever did.

The monster's mouth opened, far wider than was natural. The scar-lines radiating from its mouth and down its throat split apart, exposing the slick, glistening muscles of its jaw and throat. With a wet crack of bone, its lower jaw split down the middle as well. The two sections hinged outwards, distending its throat and mouth so that it looked like some sort of deep sea monster about to engulf its prey.

Still its mouth continued to widen, the lower half of its face peeling back like the petals of a blossoming flower. The jarring transformation happened in milliseconds.

With a sharp exhalation, the monster let loose its anger and fury in a devastating ultrasonic scream. It was similar to the cry that had nearly deafened Jason earlier, but much more powerful, so much so that the very air in front of the monster rippled and shimmered like a mirage.

Despite how far he was from the monster, Jason's teeth and skull rattled as the wave of sonic force washed over him. Joseph and Lorena were blown backwards, tossed aside by the power and intensity behind the devastating aural assault.

But Sean and Chris, standing directly in front of the monster, were hit by the full force of the unnatural scream. The effect was devastating.

Both brothers were torn apart, literally and figuratively, by the inhuman forces at play. Internal organs were ruptured instantly, un-augmented flesh no match for the inhuman forces at play. Their muscles were torn apart, their eyes burst in their skulls, and their bones shattered like fine porcelain.

The sheer force lifted both brothers off of their feet like a blast wave and tossed their bodies through the air. They landed not far from Jason, blood painting the pristine white wall where they had impacted before falling to the cavern floor.

As quickly as the scream had started, it was over.

In the sudden silence, even partially deafened, Jason, Lorena and Joseph all heard Sean's agonized screams as he clutched uselessly at his bleeding ears. His eyes bled and rolled uselessly in their sockets, and he flailed blindly in delirious pain. In contrast, Chris was still, lying facedown on the floor.

He was undoubtedly dead.

The monster stepped towards its latest two victims, inner flesh still exposed, as if admiring its handiwork. Quicker than Jason could realize what had happened, Joseph leapt to his feet and lunged. He dove forward, blade first, and drove his weapon straight into the monster's throat.

The monster let out a surprised gurgle as it stood upright. Joseph jumped back as the thin distended flesh of the monster's throat and jaw snapped shut just as quickly as it had unfurled. Bizarrely, the monster ignored Joseph and Lorena completely and swallowed audibly, as if trying to clear its throat. It gave a stinking huff of disbelief, and its taloned fingers came up and plunged into the flesh of its throat, slicing deep enough for blood to spurt out.

At first, Jason thought the monster was killing itself, but as before, every wound that it inflicted healed in seconds. Roaring in frustration, the monster continued to ignore them completely as it tore chunks of its own flesh free. The sound was still deafening, but this time its voice lacked the inhuman quality that had proven so lethal to Jason's group. Evidently, Joseph's efforts had damaged whatever gave the monster its ability to use sonic attacks.

Both Jason and his friends watched the self-mutilation warily. Keeping his eyes on the monster, Joseph backed away till he was standing next to Lorena. She passed him a spare knife, the one that Sean had been holding right before the monster had crippled him.

"What's it doing?" She asked, though a quick shrug from her mute friend was her only answer.

Jason was wondering that himself. What was different about what Joseph had done? Why could the monster heal from every mortal and trivial wound that they'd inflicted, but not from the damage that had been done to its throat? His mind whirled as it struggled to come up with a plausible answer.

The moment everything came together in his head was the moment the monster aborted its efforts and roared at them again.

"Your knives!" He shouted suddenly. The fighting paused for the briefest of moments as five eyes shifted towards Jason. "It can't heal the damage with your knives in the way!"

That was why it had been trying to remove the knives embedded in its flesh, and why it had come back to life as soon as Jason had removed his blade from its skull. It could regenerate the tissue surrounding the knives stuck in its throat and eye, but not the flesh that was supposed to be where the knives actually were.

His two remaining friends understood the implications of his deduction Jason and his friends had fought ferals in sustained fights, they'd needed to cripple them first, slowly remove their ability to move and fight because of their relatively small size and reach as children. That was a failing strategy here, hacking at the monster's limbs wouldn't do anything. They needed to stab it somewhere vital, where a kill would be both guaranteed and instantaneous.

The only thing that might suffice would be the brain.

Joseph and Lorena split up, putting themselves in a position where they could go for its exposed back if it moved to attack their partner. The monster stood and watched as they moved either not knowing, or more likely, not caring, that they had discovered a weakness.

Their survival came down to these last few moments. As Joseph and Lorena finally surrounded the monster, there were no words spoken, no intense stare down before the final confrontation. They simply charged the monster with everything they had left.

Lorena, by virtue of the fact that she was quicker than Joseph, was the first to close into range of the monster's claws. The monster ignored her completely, turning instead to face Joseph with the same vindictive look it had in its eye when it had obliterated Chris and Sean with its scream.

Its claws raked across the ground, sending a spray of dust and debris at Jason's mute friend. Joseph was forced to jump and roll in order to dodge twice, first to avoid the hail of fist sized chunks of marble, then a sweep of the monster's talons.

It was clear that it wanted revenge for the wound it had taken.

Again and again, Joseph was forced to sprint, jump and roll to avoid being cut to pieces. The monster's arms were in constant motion as it clawed at him unendingly. Lorena caught up and hacked at the monster's thickly muscle legs even as it chased after Joseph, but apart from a few half hearted stomps intended to drive her away, the monster ignored her.

Lorena took advantage of the monster's distraction by trying to climb up it and stab it in something vital, but between the fact it was easily twice her size and in constant motion, she couldn't get a solid hold on it.

Jason and his friends realized that it was a stalemate, but one that would likely end in the monster's favor. Joseph couldn't keep dodging forever. Sooner or later, the monster would catch him with its claws, he'd be killed, and then Lorena would be forced to face the monster on her own, head to head.

Joseph realized it too. And he knew what he needed to do in order to try and stop it.

Jumping and dodging all the while, Joseph managed to make his way towards the center of the room, where the chains running through the holes in the floor began to converge to a point in the ceiling. He dove over the monster's next swing, coming out of an awkward looking roll with his back to one of the openings, the blade of his knife held between the fingers of his right hand.

Joseph drew back and threw the knife as the monster swung at him. It was a good throw; whether by luck or skill, the knife spun towards the monster's uninjured left eye.

But the monster wasn't stupid. It turned its head at the last second, and the knife grazed the skin of its brow rather than sinking into the eye.

Moving its head aside had caused it to overbalance slightly, and Joseph had the presence of mind to try and jump aside, both of which meant that he managed to avoid being impaled on the monster's talons. However, the monster's size and distance between them meant that there was no avoiding the blow.

"No!" Lorena screamed as the monster's swing connected with Joseph, tossing him aside like a rag doll. Had the full force of the blow connected, Joseph would have been killed instantly. Even without its talons, the monster was strong enough to bludgeon them to death. But the monster's wrist had gotten tangled up in the chains that Joseph had been standing next to, robbing it of a significant amount of force as the added weight drew its blow back slightly.

It wasn't much of a consolation to Joseph though. He landed in a crumpled heap dozens of feet away, unconscious.

The monster tugged on the chains experimentally, muscles bulging as it tried to pull itself free with brute strength, but they held fast. To it, now that all of the other children had been incapacitated, it was free to deal with Lorena at its leisure, _after_ it had freed itself. It ignored her completely as she sprinted past its legs, focusing instead on unwrapping the chains binding its wrist with the unwieldy talons of its free hand.

It was caught completely by surprise when Lorena scaled a stray chain off to the monster's side faster than Jason thought was possible, and jumped at it with a cry of effort and rage.

Once more, the monster screamed in agony as Lorena used the knife already embedded in its skull as a handhold and punched her knife into the monster's left eye.

Jason shouted in exaltation. With the monster blinded and trapped, Lorena was free to retrieve Joseph's knife and then find an opening to kill the monster. But his happiness was short-lived.

Even as the monster screamed and thrashed, it reached up and grabbed Lorena, wrapping its meaty fingers around her torso. "NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jason shouted, trying to draw the monster's attention, but his efforts were in wasted. Even with its eyes punctured, its head fixed upon her thrashing body with eerie precision as it screamed in pain and anger.

Jason around himself in vain, trying to find something he could do, something he could throw to get the monster to focus on him, but it was useless. He tried to push against the wall and get up to his feet, but he slipped and fell back down. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. He could only watch as Lorena struggled to free herself.

The monster lifted her up and opened up its jaws. Its flesh split back, revealing the glistening muscles of its throat once more, and it began to raise her to the yawning opening, intent on swallowing Lorena whole.

Lorena didn't realize it, but she was screaming just as loudly as the monster was as its stinking breath washed over her. She twisted in its grip, but it held her too tightly, and she had nothing she could use to injure it now that she was unarmed. Her knife was gone, still embedded alongside Chris' knife in the monster's skull, and beating her fists against its fingers and wrist was an exercise in futility.

She was just about to give up when she caught sight of Joseph's first knife, embedded in a pulsing organ in the middle of the monster's throat.

Lorena grabbed the knife with both of her hands and pushed the blade even deeper into the monster's flesh with every ounce of strength she had left. Blood spurted from the wound, and the monster shrieked, throat muscles pulsating, but still Lorena drove the knife deeper and deeper.

Quickly, the blade embedded itself against something solid, and no matter how much Lorena tried it would go no further. Disarmed and seeing no other options, Lorena punched her fist directly into the cavernous wound in the back of the monster's throat, grabbed a handful of slippery vertebrae, and pulled.

The monster shrieked, muscles spasming and arms twitching, tortured nerves sending contradictory messages through its unnatural form. It jerked and twitched and snarled and howled with deafening force. Lorena could feel the sucking pressure on her arms increasing as the monster's flesh sought to heal the damage, but still she held on to its spine with all of her dwindling strength, and twisted.

The monster's cry died out suddenly, as if someone had thrown a switch. It gurgled, lost its grip on Lorena, and toppled sideways. The impact tore Lorena free from the wound, but she reacted quickly, ripping both blades free from the monster's eyes the moment she was back on her feet and driving them into the monster's spine, preventing whatever regenerative abilities it had from repairing its severed spinal cord.

They'd done it. They'd won. But any relief or happiness that Jason felt was tempered by the knowledge of what it had cost them to win. As if to demonstrate the point, Sean continued to moan in pain from where he lay, too utterly ruined and exhausted to even scream anymore.

Lorena collapsed to the floor and drew her knees closer to herself in the fetal position.

"Lorena." Jason said weakly, trying to get her attention. She didn't react. "Lorena." He tried again, but it was useless. He was slow to realize that both of her eardrums had burst under the force of the monster's death cries. Finally, when he saw the blood dripping from her ears, he understood.

It took long minutes to get to his feet, and then more minutes still to stumble to where she sat. As he drew closer, Jason could see that she was crying. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch shoulder.

She screamed and flinched, scrambling away from him. It was only when she realized that it was him that she stopped, still visibly shaken.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask if she was ok, but then closed it again. What was the point? Would any of them ever be ok again, after what they'd gone through? Instead, he pointed at the Fountain, and then reached out for her hand.

"We need to get to the Fountain." He told her gently.

Lorena blinked, trying to read his lips, but after a few more repetitions, she understood.

She took his hand and got up, and together, they made their way to the Fountain. She leaned on him just as much as he leaned on her. The carved owl loomed over them menacingly as, finally, they reached into the crystal clear pool. Slowly, with a trembling hand, Lorena raised a handful of water to her mouth and drank.

Jason watched her do it, refraining from doing so himself. He wouldn't let himself drink until the rest of their friends had made it there first. Gently, Jason guided Lorena down so that she was sitting down with her back against the Fountain's base. She'd already done more than enough.

He reached Joseph first, and dragged his friend's unconscious form to the base of the Fountain as carefully as he could. Lorena didn't even notice; she was practically catatonic.

Jason didn't stop moving, moving to grab Sean as soon as he decided that Joseph was close enough. If he did stop and take the time to give Joseph some water, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to get up again.

As he finally reached the spot where the two brothers had fallen, Jason looked at Chris' corpse sadly, but move to grab Sean. He couldn't afford to be sentimental, especially not with Sean this badly injured. Sean twitched at the unexpected contact and tried to squirm free of Jason's grasp, but Jason ignored him and dragged him towards the fountain.

When both of his still living friends were in the statue's shadow, he reached into the pool, taking a handful of water and raising it to Sean's parched lips. Only when Sean had visibly swallowed did Jason get water for Joseph, and then finally, for himself.

The water was cool and crisp as it slid down his throat. Jason could taste the dried blood that had coated his hands, but he didn't care. It was the best water that he'd ever had.

He wanted to drop onto the floor and wait forever whatever came next, but as he turned and leaned against the fountain's base, his gaze was drawn back to Chris' corpse. It didn't feel right to leave him there on his own. Even dead, Chris belonged with the rest of them.

Slowly, Jason made his way to Chris' corpse. Even though he knew it was a pointless gesture, he reached out with his left hand to check the body for a pulse, and blinked in surprise when Chris' hand snapped up and closed around his wrist.

Amazingly, the elder of the two brothers was still alive.

"Sean?" Chris asked as Jason rolled him over. His ruined eyes blinked and searched in vain.

"No. It's me. It's Jason." Jason replied.

Chris' grip tightened. "Sean," He said, oblivious to Jason's words, "You were right… We shouldn't have run away, we shouldn't have…"

His words trailed off into half delirious mutterings that Jason couldn't understand. Jason waved his free hand in front of his friend's eyes, but there was no reaction. He was completely blind.

Jason resisted the urge to twist free from Chris' grip. Instead, he shifted so that he was cradling his friend. He let his friend lean against him, giving him what comfort he could, saying nothing.

Chris blinked once more. His free hand reached up, trembling, and felt its way across Jason's features. His death grip on Jason's wrist loosened. "Jason?" He asked weakly.

Jason nodded, removing his arm from Chris' grasp and gripping his hand palm to palm instead. Chris felt the up and down movement of Jason's head from his hand.

"Is Sean alright?"

Jason glanced over at Sean, who was still stirring feebly, and nodded. Being alive was as much as they could hope for now that the monster was finally defeated.

"Lorena and Joseph?"

Another nod.

"Good. Good. I… I think I'm blind. It's a different kind of dark now. Did-" He started, but was forced to stop as he gave a series of wet coughs. Fluid gurgled audibly in his lungs. He spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm and took as deep a breath as he could manage. "Did we win?"

Jason's gaze slid from Chris' ruined body to Sean's, and from there to Joseph and Lorena. Joseph was still unconscious, while Lorena hadn't moved. She still looked at the floor sightlessly, finally broken by everything they'd been forced to endure.

Unexpectedly, the sound of metal straining and gear grinding against each other rang out through the cavern. Slowly, two openings on the sides of the cavern opened up, revealing two tunnels filled with dozens of talons.

They all stepped forward, and began to file into the room, warriors who had come to look at the children that would soon be their brothers and sisters in service.

"I don't know." Jason whispered.

Chris never heard him. He was already dead.

—-

Raptor stepped forward, looking at the four children who had made it. Four out of Fifty. Three boys and one girl had survived everything that the Labyrinth had to throw at them. Truly impressive. The grandmaster was right, this had been a good tithe.

"Aspirants, you have survived the trial of the Labyrinth." He told them proudly. "Well done."

For their part, the two children who were still conscious stared at him blankly, as if they couldn't comprehend what he was saying. The Talonmaster didn't mind; it had been much the same for him, when he had survived his own trial. He'd been so engrossed with coming to terms with the fact that he'd survived that he hadn't thought about what would come next.

He'd learned quickly, as they would. Once they were properly trained and augmented, they would make excellent warrior-servants for the Court.

Raptor gestured at his subordinates for the children to be taken away. "Get them stabilized and have the surgeons start the repair work. Dr. Valentin will be here soon to perform the augmentation."

"By your command." The other Talons pounded their fists to their chest in salute. The children, both conscious and unconscious alike, were scooped up and carried away, leaving the Talonmaster alone in the fountain room.

Raptor considered for what was to come for a moment before making his way to the body of the lone child that had died in the fight with the Chimera. Without ritual or ceremony, he picked up the small corpse by the neck and carried it towards one of the openings in the floor.

The body's broken limbs dangled uselessly, like a marionette with its strings cut.

When he reached the opening, Raptor paused, holding the corpse up so that he could examine its face.

"A pity." the Talonmaster said, something akin to regret in his voice. "You would have made a fine Talon."

As eulogies went, it wasn't much. But it was also more than any of the other aspirants who had failed would ever get.

Respects paid, Raptor released his grip and unceremoniously tossed the body into the dark depths below, to be forgotten with the rest of the failures.


	12. The Beginning of the End

**Parliament Grove,**

 **The Aegean Sea**

 **03:25 EEST**

 **January 19th, 2012**

By any standard of judgement, the island where Parliament Grove was located was beautiful.

It was located in the Aegean Sea, part of a chain of islands that were technically within Turkish territorial waters but that had been controlled by Greece for centuries. Their disputed status meant the Court was free to operate with impunity, free from government interference or oversight.

The island's perimeter was composed of tall rocky cliffs, except for the southern coast, which consisted of a pristine white sand beach. Its interior was one long stretch of untouched greenery, unmarred by signs of human habitation. The island's sole distinctive feature was a tall hill, large enough to be considered a mountain, on the west coast.

It was towards this mountain that 's plane started to descend, gently losing speed and altitude as the pilot gradually cut power to the engines. The plane flew in from the west, flying low over the water as it approached the sheer rock face of the island's coast.

A casual bystander on the island might have assumed that the plane was in some sort of distress, but then, a casual bystander would have been killed long before he'd reached a position where he could see any indication that the island in question was the ancestral home of the Court of Owls.

Roving squads of Talons patrolled the entirety of the island constantly, wary of intruders. A passive radar system capable of detecting anything that flew within 50 miles of the island was manned 24/7. If it detected anything approaching, hidden anti-aircraft batteries and SAM launchers were prepared to fire within seconds should the aircraft prove hostile.

All these defenses were invisible to the naked eye, but knew they Dr. Valentin knew they were there.

He stared out the window impassively as the plane approached the mountain's rocky face; he'd long since grown accustomed to flying in and out of the Court's secret headquarters.

As the plane flew to within 15 miles of the sheer rock face disguised steel blast doors, each more than a meter thick and designed to withstand nuclear blast, began to slide open, revealing a cavernous runway large enough to accommodate a commercial airliner. The pilot flew into the underground hangar and touched down with practiced ease, taxing to a point at the end of the runway.

The plane's door swung open and the stairs deployed, revealing a trio of Talons, one standing ahead of the other two.

Dr. Valentin had trouble recognizing Talons and remembering the names they chose for themselves at the best of times, but there was no mistaking the Talon standing at the head of their makeshift chevron.

Corvus. A member of the Krypteia, an elite group of Talons who answered only to the Grandmaster himself.

They were rare, not only because they were recruited from the best of an already exclusive group, but because they were fabulously expensive to create, even for an organization with the Court's resources. Each Kryptes represented months of work by the Court's most skilled artisans, including the Doctor, and had multiple offensive and defensive enhancements not given to "standard" Talons.

No two were alike, but as a baseline, they could all easily break every human record for speed and strength.

Corvus cut an imposing figure as he pounded his chest in salute; the Talons standing by him barely came up to his shoulder, and in contrast to their dark-grey armor, Corvus wore armor of the deepest black, so dark that it seemed to suck in the light around him. His mask was much more elaborate and stylized, with details etched out in gold rather than the bronze of his more common brethren.

"Doctor." Corvus' voice was warm and friendly, in contrast to the wanton destruction the Doctor knew he was capable of. "It's good to see you again."

Doctor Valentin inclined his head to return the greeting. "Likewise, Corvus."

Corvus dropped his salute. "The Grandmaster welcomes you, and requests that you attend to him immediately."

The doctor paused. The Grandmaster tended to use the Krypteia as a sort of secret police, sent to either root out corruption within the Court, or else to undertake missions that needed to be kept secret from the Court at large. For a member of the Krypteia to be here now, for something as mundane as augmentation surgery for the Talons newest recruits, meant that something serious was going on.

Doctor Valentin considered the request for a moment before nodding. Corvus turned and lead the way. The two Talons who had been flanking Corvus had already moved to retrieve the doctor's luggage from the plane's cargo hold, leaving them free to speak.

"What's happened?" The doctor asked as he moved to keep up with Corvus' massive strides.

"The latest tithe has attracted the Batman's attention."

"The Batman?" Doctor Valentin repeated, with mild surprise. "How?"

"An aspirant was acquired from Gotham, from a school for underprivileged children that we co-opted years ago. He fit our recruitment profile perfectly, so he was immediately selected for participation in this year's trials. It turns out that the aspirant in question was sent to that school by Batman."

Dr. Valentin hummed to himself in thought. "A trap? A lure to draw us out?"

Corvus shrugged. "It's possible, but I doubt it. More likely it was a comedy of errors. The aspirant himself believes that Batman was trying to help him, and Batman has never struck me as the sort of man who would knowingly put an innocent boy in harms way."

"True." Doctor Valentin shook his head ruefully. "Unfortunate. Oh yes. Very unfortunate."

"A Talon was stationed in Gotham to monitor the situation and noted that Batman and Robin were beginning to investigate the aspirant's disappearance." Corvus continued."A kill-team was sent to eliminate him before he picked up our trail, but they failed. The Grandmaster now believes that it's only a matter of time before he discovers Parliament Grove."

The reason for Doctor Valentin's abrupt summons dawned on him suddenly. He wasn't stupid. He knew he was one of the few members of the Court whose public work could be connected to the Talons.

"The Batman is following me. That's why I was summoned here."

"Yes." Corvus replied. "Better that you lead him straight here, where we're ready for him, rather than to any of our other bases by accident."

Dr. Valentin was both impressed and appalled. Being used as bait didn't sit well with him, but then, he had to admire the Grandmaster's cunning. After all, it was that same guile that had allowed him to rise to become the Court's sole executive power.

"I presume there's a plan?"

Corvus chuckled. "Our Grandmaster always has a plan. But you should hear it from him."

"Very well." They walked together in silence for a moment before remembered the original reason he'd been summoned. "What of the new aspirants?"

"Four still alive. The surgeons are repairing them now."

"Hmm." The doctor muttered to himself. "Good numbers."

—

 **At that same moment**

"Ready?" Batman asked, hand hovering over the Batwing's controls.

Robin took an experimental breath through his rebreather, making sure it was working, and gave his gear one final check before nodding. He'd removed his cape for this mission; swimming with a cape on was never a good idea, but otherwise his gear was good to go. "Ready."

"Go." Batman placed his rebreather in his mouth and then thumbed the release. There was a hiss of displaced air, then water began to pour into the cockpit. It was a rapid but controlled flow. The cold seawater pooled in the footwells and began to rise rapidly; within seconds it was up to their knees, and seconds after that, it was at their chests.

Robin blinked as the water finally gushed over his head, leaving him in a swirling darkness so complete that it was hard for even the night-vision lenses in his mask to compensate. With the depressurization sequence complete and the cockpit flooded, the canopy retracted, exposing the dynamic duo to the murky waters of the deep Aegean sea.

As one, they pushed out of the cockpit and began to swim towards the plane's wings, where two underwater scooters were stored in sealed cargo compartments.

At the scooter's top speed of 15 knots, it would take them roughly 10 minutes to reach the island and find a way into the secret base they knew was there.

Robin worked quickly and efficiently, getting the scooter running. After being stuck in the Batwing for the better part of five hours in order to trail Doctor Valentin's plane, it felt good to be moving again.

Upon catching sight of the mysterious island that the Doctor had landed on, Batman and Robin had both known that this was what they had been searching for. Their instincts, finely honed over years of experience, told them that this was where Jason and any other children that the Court of Owls had kidnapped were being held.

Unfortunately, those same instincts told them that the risk of being detected via aerial insertion had been too risky. The Batwing's stealth systems were good, but they weren't infallible. That was why the dynamic duo was now underwater, having used their amphibious plane to take themselves as close to the island as they dared.

Once they'd reached a pre-set distance, the Batwing would retreat several miles and wait close to the surface while they infiltrated the Court's secret base, ready to come to their rescue at a moment's notice.

If Robin was being honest, he had to admit that a hot extraction would likely be necessary. The last fight against the Court's warriors had been close, and they were going in blind against an enemy that had proven both extremely deadly and capable. Even worse, this was a rescue mission rather than reconnaissance, which meant it was most likely a question of when, not if, they were detected.

But lives were counting on them.

And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

—

"Can it be done?" The Grandmaster asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Dr. Valentin, seated directly across from the Grandmaster's desk, considered the enormity of the task ahead of him. "How long do I have?"

"Not long." The Grandmaster admitted. "Several hours, if we are lucky."

"Hmm…" The Doctor cast his gaze at the screen mounted on the wall, which displayed a live feed from the surgical room. Four children lay unmoving on large surgical tables, their limbs outstretched and patches of flesh peeled back in a manner reminiscent of Leonardo's vitruvian man. IVs lines fed their starved bodies nutrients and fluids while surgeons moved between each table, contributing their skills as needed.

All of the children had micro-fractures and hairline cracks throughout their skeletons from the Chimera's scream. The surgeon in charge of sculpting and repairing bone stepped forward as each defect was identified, applying a special glue that would harden into a structure that shared all the physical characteristics of bone. Another surgeon specializing in musculature knit artificially grown muscle fibers into their bodies wherever it had been deemed lacking or too damaged.

As extensive as the repairs on display were, they were just the tip of the iceberg. The repair work performed thus far had been intended to get them into a healthy enough state where they would be able to survive the augmentation work intended to perform.

The doctor watched the work being performed on one boy in particular, the one the Grandmaster had pointed out to him. "I have just the thing. I'll need to do some neurological rewiring on the boy, but I should be able to finish in time."

"Good. That settles it then."

Slowly, carefully, the Grandmaster removed his mask and turned to the side, where Raptor stood at the room's edge. He offered the mask to the Talonmaster.

"Go." He ordered. "Make your way to the mainland. Ensure March knows what to do."

Raptor stepped forward with a metallic case, letting the Grandmaster place the elaborate mask within its protective confines. Once the relic was safe, he sealed the case and attached it to the harness holding most of his weapons.

Task complete, Raptor saluted the Grandmaster for what he knew would be the last time. "It's been an honor."

The Grandmaster nodded in acknowledgment. "The honor is mine, dear Raptor. Noctis Aeternum."

"Noctis Aeternum." Raptor turned and left the room without another word.

"You could escape too." Dr. Valentin offered, once they were alone. "Take the plane. The Batman will never notice you once the chaos starts."

The Grandmaster shook his head as he reached into his desk and pulled out a simple white porcelain mask, the kind that most members of the Court wore. "No." He said as he placed the mask on his wizened features. "My fate was sealed the instant that boy was taken from Gotham. At least this way, we can turn this catastrophe to our advantage."

"Very well." Dr. Valentin stood and bowed. "What about the other children?"

The Grandmaster shrugged. "Do with them what you will."

The doctor smiled. "I'd best get started then."

—

Jason didn't know when the pain ended.

Things had been a blur even before the surgery started: the Talons had taken them from the Labyrinth and delivered them to a group of surgeons wearing sterile white jumpsuits. The surgeons had injected them with something that had made it impossible to move, then washed the gore and filth clean of their bodies before commencing their work.

It had hurt. Pain had been Jason's constant companion for the better part of the last two weeks, and he thought he'd learned how to tune it out, but by god did it hurt. The intensity of it bleached his vision white. If he could have screamed, he would have. The desire manifested itself as the faintest of twitches in the muscles of his throat, unnoticed by the surgeons cutting him apart on the operating table.

As it was, he wept silently, screamed noiselessly, helpless to do anything else while trapped in the prison of his own body.

In the back of his mind, he knew that his friends were with him, but that was a faint consolation at best. It hurt to think; it hurt to look up at the harsh surgical lights illuminating him, it hurt to try and force his body to move; it hurt to do anything but force his mind to a meditative blankness.

An unknowable age passed. He only noticed the pain had ended when a voice broke the sudden silence that had descended upon the operating room.

"Hello my children, hello." said a voice in the blinding light. It was a friendly voice, almost jovial.

"You no doubt have questions. That's perfectly natural. And I'm the man with the answers, oh yes. You can call me Doctor Valentin."

The absence of pain, combined with the inability to see anything, only served to emphasize what Jason could hear. The sound of running water in a sink. The rustle of fabric from a towel running over wet hands. The elastic snap of surgical gloves being put on. "Forgive the lack of anesthetic. The pain causes your brain to light up beautifully, and makes it easier for me to figure out where to connect new organs into your nervous system."

There were a series of metallic clinks as the Doctor laid out his surgical instruments. He chuckled to himself, an almost child like expression of delight. "It's so rare for me to be able to deviate from the normal augmentation scheme. Don't get me wrong, the standard augmentations are in themselves works of art. It took years of trial and error get them working. Mostly error."

He gestured absently at the wounds each of the children had taken from the Chimera, the latest result of his sanctioned experiments.

Dr. Valentin finished laying out his surgical instruments. "But they lack… creativity. I'm almost glad that the Grandmaster called me in to do this personally. One last chance to run free before the end."

The Doctor picked up a scalpel and moved so that he was standing over Jason's immobilized form. There was a faint rustle of fabric as he smiled widely behind his surgical mask.

"So, shall we begin?"


	13. Creatures of the Night

**Parliament Grove**

 **04:20 EEST**

 **January 19th, 2012**

"Got it. I'm in." Robin continued to type on his holographic keyboard, working on breaking through the few remaining firewalls that his programs hadn't already breached. A data cable attached to his vambrace mounted computer was plugged into one of the massive data stacks that surrounded them.

"Good." Batman said. He kept watch as Robin began to analyze the data that he was pulling from the Court's computers.

Finding the base's data center so quickly had been an unexpected stroke of luck. They'd explored the islands perimeter underwater trying to find an unobtrusive entrance, and found an intake pipe cut into the rock of the supposedly uninhabited island. That intake pipe had led to a massive desalination plant, which in turn had led to a cooling station for the server room they were now standing in.

Robin was quiet as he scanned the files for the name of the boy that they had come to rescue. "He's here." He said after a moment. "I've got him on a list of kids that were sent here, but…"

Batman looked at his protege, trying to figure out what was troubling him. In answer, Robin set his holo-computer to display the list he had just scanned for his mentor to read.

The list was simple, almost like a spreadsheet, with a child's name appearing in the first column, followed by physical characteristics.

 **Name:** Jason Todd **Height:** 5'2" **Weight:** 105 lbs. **Hair Color:** Black. **Eye Color:** Blue. **Status:** Alive

Three other names preceded Jason's at the top of the list, each of which Batman recognized as being listed on one of the files Dr. Valentin had been carrying. Their status was similarly listed as "Alive", with a healthy green circle next to their names. However, every name that came after Jason's was marked with an angry red circle.

 **Status:** Deceased.

Batman's disbelief at the scale of the slaughter that had taken place evaporated in the face of his anger. It burned hot and bright, fueled by both his outrage the scale of the crime that had been committed, and by his failure to notice what had been going on until now.

"How many?" He asked. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger.

"46." Robin said, softly. In contrast to his mentor, Robin's voice wasn't colored by rage, but by profound sadness.

Batman was silent and unmoving for a few moments. Only the most careful of observers would see how his clenched fists trembled. Without warning, the dark knight slammed his fist into one of the server stacks, denting the heavy metal housing.

It took several long, steadying breaths before Batman trusted himself to speak without shouting. "Where are Jason and the other survivors?"

"Unknown. There's no other record of him anywhere in the system."

"Get me a layout of the base." Batman ordered, voice full of determination. "We need to figure out where they're holding the kids prisoner."

"Already looking." Robin told him.

Now that he had broken into their networks, Robin's holo-computer automatically copied as much data as it could onto its storage drives. From what he could tell, it didn't look like much of importance was stored in the data center. Personnel records and inventory lists, maintenance logs and- there, the blueprints.

"I have something." Robin said. He keyed in a command and the computer projected a 3D reproduction of the base into the air between them.

"We're here." Robin pointed to a blue dot that had appeared on the reproduction. "It looks like there's a cellblock here, a few levels down." He trace out a path through the base to a red dot on the map.

"Can you get eyes on it?"

Robin checked the systems he'd managed to breach into, then shook his head. "They must have their security and camera systems on a different network. I can't control anything from here. I think this network is just used for data storage."

Batman frowned. He'd been hoping to hack into any internal security networks they found in order to help their search. They still had no idea what kind of enemy strength to expect. But it couldn't be helped.

"Did you copy everything you could?"

"Yes." Robin confirmed.

Batman pressed a button on his own holocomputer. "Then let's move."

Robin nodded in acknowledgement, unplugging his data cable and tucking it back into his utility belt.

They worked their way through the base silently, shadow to shadow, alcove to alcove, avoiding or evading any sign of life as they made their way through the corridors. They had to stop frequently, as the corridors were surprisingly crowded. Not by Talons, though the dynamic duo glimpsed one or two in passing, but by a large number of what looked like mundane staff.

Coverall wearing technicians. Uniformed servants like one might find at a hotel. Even a couple of chefs wearing toques blanches. It was almost surreal.

Fortunately for the dynamic duo, the further down they snuck into the base, the less populated it became. By the time they reached the floor where the cellblocks were located, there wasn't a soul in sight. It was also pitch black, which suited the dynamic duo just fine; the night vision lenses built into their masks let them see through the gloom without trouble, and the dark would let them evade any potential enemies much more easily.

They reached the large blast door leading to the cell block. Robin pulled out his data cable and plugged it into the panel next to the door, typing quickly. Without access to the base's security network, he'd been forced to hack through each door as they reached it. It was a simple process, but tedious.

The door rumbled open, revealing a large circular room, empty except for a bank of computers in the center. Robin was confused for a moment, wondering where the cells were. As if sensing his proteges thought's, Batman motioned at the floor.

It was tough to make out through the grainy night vision, but Robin saw that the floor was patterned with several circles. He understood after a moment: the cells were under their feet, with each occupant held in isolation.

The computers in the center of the room must have controlled all of the cells. They could get the kids out, then get their backup and take the Court down.

Robin stepped forward, plugging his holo-computer into the computers. Streams of code appeared on the holographic display. The usual security was there, but as before, it would be child's play for him to break through. He loaded one of his usual programs and executed it.

The code began to scroll and flash rapidly. The edges of his holographic display fizzled and shifted, as if corrupted somehow. Robin blinked, confused.

"What happened?" Batman asked.

Robin was just opening his mouth to reply when his holographic display winked out of existence completely. Without warning, the batteries of his vambrace computer overloaded and exploded.

The boy wonder cried out in surprise, though his armor and the direction of the blast meant that he was undamaged, apart from a few cuts to his exposed face.

"Ah, the famous Batman and Robin. At last." A warm, rich voice said to them from various speakers around the room.

Even before the sound of the explosion had died out, the room's lights burst into life, and the blast door that they'd entered through slammed shut.

"I would say that this was a pleasant surprise, but it's neither a surprise nor, I'm sure you would agree, is it particularly pleasant."

The cells in the floor all began to rise rapidly, lifted up by powerful hydraulics. Almost a dozen monstrous figures with clawed hands and mottled grey skin blinked as they emerged into the harsh light. Some began to screech at the intruders, while others scratched their claws against the plexiglass cells confining them in an attempt to break free.

"Well, I am nothing if not pragmatic."

The cells opened with a pneumatic hiss, leaving their formerly human occupants free to escape and satiate their bloodlust.

A screen came to life on the wall opposite the door, displaying the image of a man seated behind an ornate desk. He wore a fine suit, and a white porcelain mask shaped to resemble a stylized owl concealed his face.

"I am the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls." The masked man told them. "Welcome to Parliament Grove."

—-

Dr. Valentin hummed to himself contentedly as he finished gluing the subject's wounds shut and placed the gel-dispenser down on a tray. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. The augmentations he'd just inserted into the subject were elegant, yet deceptively simple; once the nanotech gel had done its job, there would be almost no trace that any surgical work had been done, not even scarring.

If everything went the way the Grandmaster predicted, the boy would surely prove to be a great asset to the Court in the future.

He was slightly disappointed by the fact that it would be a future that he could not live to see, but Dr. Valentin still took pride in the fact that he had done his duty just as well as any Talon could have.

Even better, he had consolation prizes to keep him entertained until the end came.

"Decisions, decisions." He said to himself as he turned to regard the three remaining subjects. Only very rarely was he given carte blanche in regards to augmentation surgery, and he wanted these last works to be perfect.

The intercom buzzed suddenly, interrupting his train of thought. Dr. Valentin walked over and keyed the intercom with his elbow, since his gloved hands were still covered in blood. "Yes?"

"Excuse me Doctor." Corvus' voice crackled through the speaker. "It's begun. They're here."

"Very well." Dr. Valentin said solemnly. "I've done what was asked of me."

"Then this is goodbye, Doctor. Die well."

Dr. Valentin didn't even acknowledge the Kryptes' farewell. He was already walking back to the surgical tables, still struggling to decide which child would be the next to receive his gifts.

"It's ironic, in a way," He noted after a long period of silence. "For the first time in years, I can do anything I want… and now I can't think of a single thing I want to do."

The Doctor gave a huff of annoyance as he sat down on a stool at the edge of the room. This shouldn't have been hard. Something elegant but deadly for the girl, of course, but what? And for the two boys…?

Oh, how Cynthia would have jumped at the chance to experiment freely with newly acquired aspirants. They usually got the dregs of society to work with, not prime material such as these children.

"Hm." The doctor hummed to himself as his thoughts turned towards his protege. "What would Cynthia have chosen to start with?" He asked himself.

Dr. Valentin stared at the subjects, examining them the way a sculptor examines a block of marble before he begins to work. The answer occurred to him moments later.

He smiled as he made his way over to one of the subjects and reached for a fresh scalpel.

"The eyes."

—-

"You know Batman," The Grandmaster said conversationally as Batman and Robin fought for their lives against a horde of ravening beasts, "There was a time when we of the Court thought about inviting you to join us. A man of your obvious intellect could only have chosen to don the mantle of a vigilante if he believed there was something fundamentally wrong with the world, just as we do."

Batman ducked aside as a clawed hand split the air where he had been standing moments before. The creatures were inhumanly quick, but luckily for him, they were also predictable. They also fought alone, without concern for their fellows, getting in each other's way more often than not.

The Grandmaster shrugged visibly on the screen. "Who knows what good we might have achieved together, our vision allied with your skills?"

"I would never work with you." Batman's voice was full of barely controlled anger. He drove his armored fist into a beaked mouth, driving one of the creature's back even as it screeched in pain.

"Oh yes," The Grandmaster chuckled to himself, "We realized that before long."

Robin fought as he leapt and spun through the tangle of limbs and flesh, distracting the monsters at the edge of the crowd and preventing them from ganging up on his mentor all at once.

"You're too myopic, Batman. You focus too much on the symptoms of the corruption that plague society. We focus on the causes. That is what separates you from us. With all of the power at your disposal, you could change the status quo for the better, instead of merely preserving it."

"We need to get out of here." Batman said, ignoring the Grandmaster. "Cover me."

Robin tumbled back into the center of the group and reached into his utility belt. A double handful of flash and concussion bombs was sufficient to buy them some breathing room.

The beasts screamed as the sensitive rods and cones in their enhanced eyes were bleached with light, or else burned out completely. Some clutched at their eyes in a disturbingly human fashion, while others lashed out blindly, striking down some of their fellows in their rage.

Even as the beasts clamored, Batman reached into his own utility belt. Neither he nor his partner had enough ordnance to get through the foot thick blast door that they'd entered through, but the rock was another story.

If he'd memorized the 3D map that Robin had produced correctly, there was a room above them that they could escape into.

"You hate us, don't you?" The Grandmaster asked. "There's no need to answer. I can see the anger on your face, feel its heat. You still see us as the moronic villains in a Saturday morning cartoon."

Batman tossed his explosive batarangs expertly. They wedged themselves into the rock of the ceiling and detonated in unison with a sooty roar. Dust and chips of rock showered down on them, but both vigilantes ignored the rain of debris and pulled out their grapnel launchers.

As one, they fired their lines up through the hole Batman had made in the ceiling and drew themselves up to safety.

The Grandmaster sighed, genuinely disappointed. "If only you could see. Our end goal is not to terrorize the world, but to save it from itself. Are you not the same?"

"We're nothing alike."

"Because you refuse to kill?" The Grandmaster's mocking laughter showed them what he thought of that particular concept. "Is that purity, or selfishness?"

Batman and Robin landed on their feet in a room similar to the one that they'd left behind, although this one appeared to be a lab of some kind. White coated technicians gaped at them, completely and utterly shocked.

Before anyone could say anything, a clawed hand bit into the rock of the floor, and one of the monsters pulled itself up into the room. Another followed suit. If the technicians were scared of the vigilantes who had suddenly appeared in their midst, they were positively terrified of the creatures that had been set loose.

"The Chimera are free!" One exclaimed.

"Summon the Talons, quick!"

Everyone other than Batman and Robin ran in terror, fleeing towards the room's sole entrance.

One of the Chimera fell onto all fours and launched itself at one of the fleeing technicians close to it, streaking through the air like a mottled grey missile. The man's scream became a gurgle as the Chimera's claws burst from his chest.

With a twist of its wrists it tore the man in half, tossing the two halves apart with a pleased growl. Another reached out and decapitated a screaming woman with one sweep of its claws.

"We take lives when necessary, yes." The Grandmaster continued, oblivious to, or perhaps uncaring of, the slaughter that was occurring. His voice was just as clear as it had always been, emanating from speakers spread throughout Parliament Grove. "The nature of our work means that some of them are innocent, I won't deny that. But necessity must always override morality. Never without regret. Never without shame. But we fight for the future of our species, Batman. In this, even an immoral victory will outweigh a moral defeat."

Batman and Robin were already attacking the monsters, distracting them in an attempt to prevent them from killing their own creators. "Run!" Robin shouted at the the technicians.

Most of them needed no encouragement. They all but trampled each other in their attempts to reach the door and flee.

"Nothing to say?" The Grandmaster asked.

"Killing is never necessary." Batman growled as he fought. One of the Chimera leapt for him, claws outstretched, aimed at his heart.

Batman dove backwards, landing on his back. He drove both of his legs into the Chimera's stomach and used its own momentum to throw it further. It collided with one of its fellows that had just climbed free from the hole, knocking them both back into the floor below.

"Come Batman, we are both men of logic and reasoning." The Grandmaster sounded slightly irritated, like a schoolteacher dealing with a particularly ignorant student. "Spare me your empty platitudes. How many more lives could you have have saved if only you'd accept the fact that the high road does not always go where you need it to?"

With no screen around them, neither member of the dynamic duo could see it, but the Grandmaster shook his head disbelievingly. "It truly staggers the mind. A man who has glimpsed the truth of the human condition choosing instead to embark upon the path of chaos and decay!"

The last of the technicians had managed to escape the room at that point. Even better, they hadn't closed the blast door behind them.

"Let's go!" Robin shouted to get his mentor's attention.

Batman slid underneath the Chimera that he'd been fighting and leapt for the door. Robin slammed his palm into the control panel as Batman crossed the threshold, letting the door crash shut. The sound of flesh pounding against metal rang down the corridor as the Chimera that they had trapped inside the room tried to break down the door, but thankfully, it held firm.

"Is stopping petty crime truly the extent of your ambitions? Can you really not comprehend the scope of ours? All the arbitrary divisions that keep men apart abolished. An ordered world, where all have purpose, where everyone has a place. A world where a vigilante like you is simply not necessary!"

"Would you just shut up!" Robin shouted as he and his mentor caught their breath.

Silence filled Parliament Grove for a moment, but then the Grandmaster tsked impatiently. "Very well. I tire of this pointless discussion. I leave you to your futile struggle in peace. Corvus?"

"Yes Grandmaster?" said a hulking figure who stepped forward from a corridor several dozen feet away. It was clear from his armor and weapons that he was a Talon, but even at a glance, it was clear that he was much more dangerous than the ones that they'd fought back in Gotham. He was just as big as the Chimera that they'd left behind, and his muscles were practically humming with tension.

"Kill them." The Grandmaster ordered.

"By your command." Corvus smiled under his mask and saluted, fist to his chest

"Hello Batman, hello Robin, I'm Corvus. It's nice to meet you." The dynamic duo stared at Corvus, who broke his salute by waving at them. "I've always wanted to kill a hero."

—

Blood was roaring through Joseph's veins as he returned to lucidity, though he didn't hear it at first. The pain of having his eyes cut free had driven him into a mindless delirium that he was only now returning from.

With a start, he realized he could see again. The darkness that he'd been left in after the Doctor had taken his eyes was now replaced by the harsh glare of overhead surgical lighting. He could glimpse details of the ceiling as his new eyes began to adjust to the intense light. They still radiated pain throughout his skull, but it was less intense now, much more manageable.

Joseph didn't know it, but the skin around his eyes had been peeled back like a corpse undergoing an autopsy, exposing the glistening muscle and cartilage of his face. Wires were attached to specific muscles, and to needles poking through his skull into his optical nerves.

He tried to move, but as before, his body didn't react to his commands. His extremities didn't even twitch. His gaze remained fixed on the lights.

As his vision continued to clear, Joseph saw a figure coalesce into being before him. He knew this individual, but it took him a moment for the name to form in his pain and rage addled brain.

"Let's see…" Doctor Valentin said as he peered down into the spliced eyes that he'd just finished grafting into place. He shaded the boys eyes with a free hand, watching as the eyes reacted involuntarily. "Perfect pupil response."

Withdrawing his hand, the doctor pressed a button which sent a mild electrical current through the nerves and muscles. Joseph's eyes reacted instantly, twitching randomly, left and right, up and down. "No sign of movement or rotation issues."

Doctor Valentin killed power and leaned back in to look the boy Joseph in the eye. "I think these new eyes rather suit you." He reached up to pull the wires and electrodes free. "Let's close these wounds up, and then I'll see what improvements I can make to your internal organs."

Despite the pain, or more likely because of it, wild anger surged through Joseph. Joseph wanted to scream. He wanted to yank the IV tubes out of his arm. He wanted to grab the scalpel the doctor had used to cut him apart and stab him with it.

The Doctor paused in the middle of gluing one of the last flaps of skin back into place. He thought he saw something move, which was of course impossible. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light?

He watched the boy closely for a few moments, but nothing happene- there, a glint of discolored greenish light near the boy's eyes. It was gone in an instant, so fast that the Doctor could have easily imagined it.

"Strange." Doctor Valentin muttered to himself. Placing the gel dispenser back on a tray, he leaned in close, examining the boy's eye for any imperfections that might lead to such a phenomenon. Did the irises seem off color?

The doctor leaned in closer, filling Joseph's field of view. He was so close that Joseph could have reached out and wrapped his hands around the Doctor's gaunt neck. He put everything he had, every ounce of his rage and will into regaining control of his body so that he could make that a reality.

Dr. Valentin was almost face to face with the boy when he saw the glint of discolored green light again. Because of the shadow he was casting, there was no way the light was being reflected from the surgical lights above them. The light must have been coming from some internal source.

"What-?" Dr. Valentin breathed, just his gaze met Joseph's directly.

A burst of green light burst from Joseph's eyes. His vision lurched. The world blurred. There was a crash of something falling, but he was so disoriented that he didn't pay attention to what it was.

Suddenly, his vision returned to normal. He was still looking up at the ceiling, though he noticed his perspective had shifted slightly. He reached up to press his hand to his temple, hoping the pressure would help with the massive headache that he was feeling. _Wait._

He could move again!

Joseph withdrew his hand quickly and looked at it in surprise, only to become even more confused as he realized that the hand he was looking at wasn't the one he was used to. It was clearly older, covered with wrinkled skin and age spots.

 _What just happened?_

He stood up and looked around. His friends were all lying on surgical tables all around him. Sean, Lorena, Jason and-

Joseph blinked in bewilderment. He was looking at himself, still lying unmoving on top of a surgical table. Patches of skin were still peeled back from his eyes, and surgical cuts decorated most of his body, but it was still undeniably him. He snatched a surgical tray off one of the stands, tossing the tools on it away so that he could look at his reflection on its mirrored surface.

Dr. Valentin's face looked back at him.

Joseph's first words in over a year were whispered in another man's voice. "What the hell?"

—

Batman and Robin reacted instantly. A flurry of batarangs sliced through the air towards Corvus.

Any hope that the hulking Talon would be slowed by his massive size was lost as he nimbly avoided the projectiles, ducking and side-stepping past the ones that he could, deflecting the ones that he couldn't with his armored forearm.

"I hope that's not all you've got," Corvus laughed as the last batarang clattered against the floor, "Or else this is going to be very tedious for me."

Without waiting for a response, he lunged at them. Corvus was little more than a black blur streaked with gold in both Batman and Robin's vision. Luckily, both vigilantes had the presence of mind to dodge rather than block, jumping apart and rolling out of the line of Corvus' attack.

Their previous fight back in Gotham had taught them to be wary of the enhanced capabilities that all of the Court's warrior-servants seemed to possess.

Their caution was well founded.

There was a deafening crash as Corvus smashed into the blast door just behind where Batman and Robin had been hard enough to dent the metal. Even as Batman came out of his roll, Corvus was already moving to attack again. "Quick little bastard, aren't you."

Chips of stone and dust exploded outward as another blow smashed into the wall, and then another. Whole sections of the stone stone composing the hallway's length were smashed into powder as Corvus chased after the Dark Knight. He moved to strike again, but Robin took advantage of the momentary opening to launch an attack of his own. The boy wonder ducked low, sliding forward and bringing brought both of his escrima crashing directly into the side of Corvus' knee.

The impact felt like he was smacking an iron post, but Robin put everything he had into the attack. Batman leapt forward as well, driving an armored knee into Corvus' jaw. Two bone breaking cracks resonated through the corridor.

The force of the blow rocked Corvus' head and caused him to topple backwards. Even wounded as he was, the Talon reacted expertly, flipping back and landing on his good leg. He placed a steadying hand on the wall and looked down at his broken leg. The knee was bent horribly out of place.

"Please," He said, looking up at Batman and Robin. The word was slurred because of his dislocated jaw, but his tone was still amused. The muscles of Corvus' leg tensed visibly under his form fitting armor, and the joint of his broken knee wrenched itself back into place. At the same time, Corvus reached up and pushed his jawbone back to where it should have been.

He worked his jaw around experimentally before speaking again. "Like that's never happened to me before."

Quicker than either Batman or Robin could follow, Corvus reached into his own utility pouches and threw a handful of flash bombs. The explosions of light and noise only disoriented them for a second, but a second was all Corvus needed to burst forward and drive a side kick into Robin's torso.

The force was somewhere close to being crashed into by a car. The boy wonder flew backwards and smashed into the wall behind him with enough force to crack and splinter the stone; the only thing that kept him from being killed outright was the protection and cushioning his armor provided.

As Robin fell to the ground, gasping for breath, Batman stepped in to cover his partner, trading blows with Corvus in a continuous flow.

One of Corvus' punches missed Batman's head by inches, instead smashing into the wall all the way up to the elbow. Moving quickly, Batman reached into his utility belt and tossed a device at Corvus' embedded arm. The capsule exploded on contact, filling the hole Corvus had unintentionally gouged out of the wall with a sticky foam that turned as hard as concrete within seconds.

Batman stepped in close, taking advantage of his newly gained superior mobility to rain a series of punishing strikes all over Corvus' body. Corvus defended himself as best he could, but with his arm trapped, Batman had the advantage, and they both knew it.

Corvus growled in frustration as blow after blow landed: instead of simple brute force, Batman was hitting him with very accurate nerve strikes. They weren't debilitating, as they would have been for a normal human, but they were damn annoying.

Gathering all of his not-inconsiderable strength, Corvus pulled hard on his encased limb. The bonding glue that Batman had used held firm, but the rock comprising the wall itself did not.

With a crack of splintering stone, an entire chunk of the wall came free.

As Batman blinked in surprise, Corvus swung his encased limb through the air like a massive bludgeon. There was an explosion of dust and debris as the blow caught Batman directly on his chest plate, sending him tumbling backwards. He landed next to Robin, who was up on his feet at that point, and assumed a defensive stance while he caught his breath.

This time, though, Corvus didn't attack right away. The Talon watched them, absently brushing pieces of rock and bonding agent off of his gauntlet. At some hidden signal, almost two dozen Talons appeared, spilling into the corridors and surrounding Batman and Robin completely.

Corvus had only been delaying them while the rest of his brothers and sisters assembled.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" Corvus asked.

The dynamic duo exchanged a quick glance. "No." Robin told Corvus. "We really didn't."

The wall behind them burst into pieces of dust and debris as two blurred figures swept into the room.

The first wore a set of ancient armor, radiant despite the dust and lack of light, forged by the gods of old. The second wore a costume of blue, red, and yellow, a combination that had served as a symbol of hope on his long-dead planet.

It was certainly an inspiring sight to see for both members of the dynamic duo.

"Nice timing." Robin said appreciatively.

Superman, still hovering a foot over the floor, gave Robin a quick smile. "We aim to please."

Wonder Woman stepped forward so that she was at the head of their group. "Surrender at once." She demanded. "This is your first and last warning."

The Talons showed no reaction at the sudden appearance of two other members of the Justice League, nor at Wonder Woman's ultimatum. They didn't even move, standing like statues as they watched the four heroes that had invaded their home.

The silence stretched on for several heartbeats before it was broken.

"Heh heh heh."

Robin didn't know which Talon the snicker had come from, but within seconds it was a moot question, since all of the Talons began to laugh.

Even as they gave voice to their amusement in a maniacal chorus, the Talons began to draw their weapons. Swords and axes, three pointed sais, throwing knives and sickles connected to weights with lengths of barbed chain.

Corvus chuckled as he deployed the blades built into his gauntleted finger tips. "And here I was afraid you weren't going to make this interesting."


	14. Memento Mori

**Parliament Grove,**

 **The Aegean Islands**

 **05:01 EEST**

 **January 19th, 2012**

The first few moments of the fight were unbelievably chaotic, even by Batman's standards. Superman stood at the head of their group, with Wonder Woman, Batman, and Robin forming a loose diamond behind him.

Most of the Talons, Corvus included, charged at the quartet of heroes. Even as they rapidly began to close the distance, the man of steel drew in a deep breath, deeper than any human was capable of making, so deep that the air pressure in the room dropped measurably.

With his lungs now filled with highly compressed air, Superman pursed his lips and blew as hard as he could. In the relatively close confines of the Court's base, the effect was instantaneous. All of the Talons were tossed backwards by the gale force winds, scattered like rag dolls in a tornado.

At least, all except one.

The instant the winds began to push against him, Corvus punched his hands wrist deep into the floor. He crouched down low on all fours, presenting a smaller profile. Frost began to rime on the exposed metal of his armor and mask, but still he remained anchored against the buffeting winds.

He struck as the gusts began to die down, launching himself through the air much like the Chimera had done, throwing himself through the air and driving his fist square into the middle of Superman's face.

Superman's head snapped back as he was sent flying back through the opening in the wall he'd just created. The man of steel crashed through another two walls, tumbling end over end, out of immediate sight.

Corvus laughed. "You have no idea how satisfying that was."

Wonder Woman, Batman and Robin moved to engaged Corvus, but were forced to scatter as a veritable storm of thrown projectiles sliced through the air at them as the scattered Talons regrouped and charged.

Corvus ignored the trio as he sprinted through the trail of wreckage Superman had left behind him. Wonder Woman and the dynamic duo were lesser threats, relatively speaking, that his lesser brethren could deal with.

He spotted Superman on his back, surrounded by a broken halo of rubble. Corvus dove atop the man of steel before he could rise, securing a high mount and using his advantageous position to bring his fists smashing into Superman's face. The blow smashed Superman's head almost a full foot into the floor.

The force of Corvus' punches thus far had caught Superman by surprise: the Court's champion was easily as strong as Superboy.

Utilizing his momentary advantage, Corvus straightened the fingers of his right hand, with the blades in his gauntlet still deployed, and stabbed them into the emblem on Superman's chest. Superman cried out in pain and surprise as the miniature blades pierced into his chest; his skin was tough enough to deflect armor-piercing anti-tank shells, but the edges on the blades had cut through his skin with ease.

"X-ionizer blades, courtesy of the US military." Corvus said. There was a flash of metal as Corvus stabbed out with the fingers of his free hand, but the man of steel managed to catch him by the wrist, stopping the blades bare centimeters from his eyes.

"I'm going to rip your heart out of your chest and eat it." Corvus promised him, pushing into the blades still embedded in Superman's chest with all of his strength. The wound wasn't deep, but the Talon's efforts still elicited pained grunt from the man of steel. "How does that sound?"

The man of steel's reply was a devastating uppercut to the bottom of Corvus' chin. The Talon launched upwards like a rocket, smashing head first through the ceiling and into the next floor. Even before he had a chance to begin falling, Superman was there, crashing into him with enough force to smash through another few floors with ease.

Undeterred, Corvus drove his knee into Superman's solar plexus, breaking them apart. Corvus flipped through the air and landed perfectly on his feet in an impressive display of coordination.

He lunged forward with blades outstretched, but this time Superman was ready, catching him by the wrists. Before Corvus could break free, Superman unleashed his heat vision, turning the blades that the Talon had been using into little more than molten slag.

Corvus tsked. "Fine. Fists then."

He twisted free of Superman's grip and stepped close,slamming his elbow up into the bottom of Superman's chin, following up with a punch to the nose a moment later.

Undeterred, Superman reached out and grabbed Corvus by his utility webbing. Both super-powered beings punched each other in the same moment, alien physiology against cutting-edge bio-engineering. Superman's head juddered under the impact, but Corvus was thrown back completely, slamming against a far wall.

Superman swooped through the dust and debris, coming to a halt several feet from Corvus. A quick check with his x-ray vision had shown the man of steel the full extent of the injuries he had dealt to the Talon. Over a dozen broken bones, almost twice as many fractures, dislocations and internal injuries.

"Give up." Superman demanded. "You can't win."

Corvus got up with a pained grunt, his body hunched and deformed he pulled himself to his feet. His muscles tensed, and suddenly, before Superman's eyes, Corvus' bones and muscles began to rearrange themselves. His hunched posture gradually straightened with every bone breaking crack until he stood tall, looking uninjured apart from the damage that had been done to his armor.

He chuckled as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Let's agree to disagree."

Before Superman could reply, Corvus tapped a button on his gauntlet. The explosive charge that he had surreptitiously placed on the man of steel's back as they grappled earlier exploded, throwing him forward. Corvus was there before the man of steel could reorient himself, swinging his gauntleted fist into the middle of Superman's face.

They met with a crash that shook the mountain's very foundations.

—-

Wonder Woman caught the incoming sword with her bracelet, blocking the the edge before it could cut down into her clavicle. Undeterred, the Talon holding the blade stabbed at her with a gladius held in his off hand, hoping for a kill-plunge to the belly.

The Amazon princess caught her opponent's wrist, stopping the blade before it could connect. She crushed the bones of her opponent's forearm with a tight squeeze, then used her grip to toss her snarling opponent like a discus. The unlucky Talon tumbled end over end for dozens of dozens of feet before colliding with one of his brethren who had been too slow to dodge.

Batman and Robin followed in her wake as she flew headfirst into another group of Talons who had been forming up for a counterattack. The fight had turned in their favor, but not by much. For every Talon that they brought down, another seemed to join the fight.

"This is taking too long." Batman said to his protege as they fought one of the isolated stragglers that had managed to evade the worst of Wonder Woman's attack.

Robin went high while Batman went low, overwhelming him with their superior numbers and teamwork.

Batman pointed at a vent cover that was visible nearby when the Talon in question was down. It was too small for Batman to get through with any real speed, but despite the fact that he'd grown noticeably over the last few years, Robin was still small enough to get through.

"Get to their command center and find out where they're holding the children."

Robin hesitated. The only reason they'd been succeeding thus far was the fact that the surprise appearance of their super-powered teammates had caught the Talons off-balance. Even with Wonder Woman and Superman there, they were still outnumbered ten to one. If they let up the pressure for the slightest moment and gave the Talons a chance to regain the initiative, they could be swarmed and taken down.

"Are you sure?"

Batman nodded. "Wonder Woman and I can handle this."

Robin moved to comply immediately. The boy wonder blasted through the vent cover with a thrown breaching charge, then moved through the opening he had created even before the smoke had cleared.

Several Talons rushed Batman at that moment, taking advantage of what they thought would be a moment of distraction to attack en masse.

Batman ducked under the first Talon's sword and brought his armored cowl smashing up into his attacker's chin. Before the Talon could reel away, Batman kicked off of his leg and leapt over him, surreptitiously placing a concussion charge on his back as he did so.

The dark knight kicked out, knocking the Talon forward into a crowd of his brethren. The charge detonated with a loud boom, blasting the crowd of enhanced warriors off of their feet.

Batman took advantage of the disarray to tumbled through the air, landing on his feet, back to back with Wonder Woman. Her unprotected arms and legs were decorated with shallow cuts and she was breathing heavily from the exertion, but otherwise she appeared fine.

"We need to regroup with Superman."

Wonder Woman didn't take her eyes off of the Talons, who were beginning to try and surround them again. "Which way?" She asked.

Before Batman could answer, there a distant rumble echoed faintly, almost like thunder, and the ground trembled slightly beneath their feet. Wonder Woman glanced at the floor. "Never mind."

—

"Jason."

There was a brief pinprick of pain as the IV plugged into the back of his hand was yanked out. Unable to move, he'd withdrawn internally, to a place in his mind where the pain of his injuries and the subsequent surgeries couldn't touch him, but now, the instant the flow of paralytics into his system ceased, Jason began to stir.

Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Jason get up. We need to leave."

His eyes slid shut, providing him with blessed relief from the harsh surgical lighting that had been bleaching his eyes for the last few hours. His fingers twitched experimentally, then curled in on themselves and closed into fists.

He recognized the voice speaking to him. It was the last Doctor, the one who had started cutting him open what felt like ages ago.

Despite the fact that the doctor had sealed the incisions that he'd made, Jason's back tingled with echoes of the pain that he had felt.

"Jason," the voice said again. Before it could speak again, Jason's eyes snapped open. With a roar of rage, he lunged at the the Doctor, knocking over several surgical trays in his desperation for some measure of revenge. Surgical tools clattered across the floor as his hands wrapped around the elderly man's throat.

"Wait!" The doctor exclaimed as he recoiled in surprise. Jason's weight knocked them both onto the floor.

The doctor tried to speak, but couldn't with Jason's fingers wrapped around his throat. His hands gripped Jason's wrists, but the 12 year old boy's rage made him much stronger than he usually was, and his entire focus was on exacting some measure of revenge.

Sean was the one who brought Jason back to lucidity. He did it by smacking his fist across Jason's face, throwing him back off of the doctor. Even as Jason was sent reeling, he tried to fight back out of instinct. With a snarl, Sean evaded Jason's flailing limbs and headbutted him, smacking his head back into the floor.

"Enough." Sean growled. "That's not the Doctor. It's Joseph."

The pain and nausea kept Jason down, but they also cleared the red haze of anger than had been clouding his mind. He blinked up at Sean for a few moments as his capacity to think rationally began to return to him.

Sean extended his hand, helping Jason stand up. His friend looked unbelievably clean and whole, completely untouched by the events that had occurred in the Labyrinth.

"Joseph?" Jason said, struggling to process Sean's claim. The old Doctor looked at them hesitantly, but with clear recognition. There was definitely something in the doctor's manner that had changed. He truthfully seemed more familiar to Jason.

He racked his brain, trying to come up with a way to test the bizarre claim. "What's your brother's name?" He demanded.

"You don't know what my brother's name is." The doctor instantly replied, as if he'd been anticipating the question. "You never figured out what I was trying to sign with my hands."

Jason relaxed visibly. It was true, Joseph's ability to communicate had been hampered by the throat wound that prevented him from speaking. He was sure the Court had been listening to them while they were in the Labyrinth, which meant that he'd had to think of something that he hadn't learned about his friend for his little test.

Sean was standing nearby with a tight expression on his face, while Lorena still lay unmoving on top of a surgical table. Jason clutched at his head, which was throbbing at the beating he had just received. He had no idea how long he'd been lost to the mindless delirium.

"What's going on?" Jason asked, struggling to take in his surroundings and understand what exactly had happened.

"I don't know." Joseph told him. It was unnerving, hearing him speak with the Doctor's voice. "One minute I'm trying to get free and kill the Doctor," Joseph indicated a bloody corpse lying on a nearby table, "the next I'm in control of his body."

With a start, Jason realized the corpse on the table that Joseph had been pointing at was actually his friend's body, and perhaps more importantly, it was still alive. He could actually see the body's heart beating, and see its lungs slowly expanding and contracting as they continued to function despite the fact that their owner's mind was elsewhere.

"Holy shit." Jason breathed. While he, Sean, and Lorena were relatively undamaged and whole, the same couldn't be said for Joseph's body.

The skin on his torso and limbs had been peeled back to expose the bloody muscles underneath, and the ribs had been cracked open to expose the chest cavity to the open air. Tubes were plugged into bloodstained metal sockets that had been implanted into his biceps and thighs, pumping in blood and other chemicals necessary to keep him alive.

There were so many questions Jason wanted to ask, but his opportunity to ask them disappeared quickly.

There was a distant rumble, almost like thunder, that reverberated through the floor. The lights shuddered and flickered as the ground shook beneath their feet.

"What the hell was that?" Jason asked warily.

"We don't know, it's been going on for the last few minutes." Joseph told him. Another rumble, louder and more powerful from the last, sent them all sprawling. Cracks appeared in the ceiling, sending a loose rain of dust sprinkling on them.

Sean grabbed a nearby IV pole to steady himself. "We need to get out of here. This place is coming apart."

Jason grabbed the edge of a table and pulled himself up. He started making his way over to Lorena. "How?"

"I can get myself out of those machines." Joseph told them as he stumbled over the shaking ground towards his comatose body. "You guys take care of Lorena. We can worry about finding a way out after you guys her up"

Jason and Sean worked quickly, pulling the IV lines out of her limbs and trying to rouse her.

"Lorena." Jason said, leaning down over her, shaking her gently by the shoulders. "Lorena, wake up."

Both boys tried everything they could think of: speaking to her, shouting, and even slapping her across the cheek, but nothing worked. Despite the fact that they'd removed the IV containing the drugs that had kept her immobile, their friend remained unresponsive.

"What do we do?" Jason asked, worried. The ground was trembling violently now, as if someone was pummeling it with a massive jackhammer.

"You carry her." Sean told him, moving back towards Joseph.

Their friend had managed to unplug almost most of the tubes from his body. It was clear that he wasn't removing them at random: there was some sort of sequence involved.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Sean asked.

"Sort of. It's like I know what he knows," Joseph replied. He hesitantly reached out and removed the last tube, which spurted a foul smelling liquid onto the floor before shutting off. "Bits of it anyway."

Sean ran to the side and snatched a folded surgical cloth off of a nearby table. He came back to the table and wrapped it around his friend's body before scooping it up into his arms.

"Do you know how to get out of here?" He grunted.

Joseph blinked, disoriented as he struggled to search through memories that weren't his. He nodded hesitantly after a moment.

"I think so."

Despite what his attitude might have suggested, Corvus was every bit as precise a fighter as his more stoic brethren, if not more so. One didn't rise to become a Kryptes by being sloppy.

Now, after the hand to hand exchanges he'd traded over the last few minutes, he had Superman's measure. The man of steel was holding back less and less, punching him harder, moving faster. He undeniably had the edge in both speed and strength, but skill, and experience in hand to hand combat?

That, Corvus had in spades.

"Pathetic." He laughed mockingly, already moving to dodge Superman's next punch even before he threw it. He sidestepped so that the blow missed by the barest of margins, then counter-punched with an uppercut that sent the man of steel reeling. "Who taught you to fight?"

Superman telegraphed all of his moves: tensing muscles before using them, looking directly at the point he was about to attack. Now that Corvus knew what he was looking for, it was child's play. "I've trained children who could fight better than you."

Corvus slammed a punch into Superman's gut, driving the air out of his lungs. As Superman doubled over, Corvus balled his fists and brought them crashing into the man of steel's spine, sending him crashing through the floor.

"Not all targets will stand still and let you hit them." Corvus smiled through the pain he was in: he was punching Superman so hard that every punch that he connected with broke his own wrists and tore ligaments and muscles free, but he forced himself to ignore it.

His regenerative capabilities would repair the damage in moments anyway.

Corvus dropped down through the four levels of the Court's base that Superman had punched through on his way down.

Superman swooped at him, arms outstretched, catching Corvus in mid air and slamming him back into the ceiling. There were a series of audible cracks as Corvus' ribcage shattered. His punctured lungs rapidly filled with blood, but the Talon was unfazed as he reached up and yanked his mask off of his face.

He spat a mouthful of blood into Superman's eyes as he reared back to throw another punch, blinding him. The man of steel's unguided punch embedded itself into the rock next to Corvus' head.

Corvus' fingers snaked out, lightning quick, jabbing forcefully into Superman's throat before he could wipe the fluid from his eyes.

The blow didn't collapse Superman's windpipe, but it did make it harder for him to catch his breath, which was all the opening Corvus needed to bring his legs up into a position where he could kick off the wall behind him and drive them both into the floor.

They impacted with the force of a small explosion, creating a small crater amid a haze of dust and debris. Once again, Corvus found himself in a dominant position with which he could rain punch after punch into Superman's unprotected face.

"More!" Corvus demanded, blood and saliva spraying from his mouth as he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Give me more!"

Superman struggled to defend himself, but Corvus landed punch after punch in an unending torrent. Corvus smiled to himself as he stopped to give his pulverized flesh a chance to heal. He'd managed to knock the man of steel unconscious.

He was about to resume the laborious process of beating Superman to death when something looped around his wrist, drawing him short.

Corvus had a split second to take in the sight of a length of golden rope wrapped around his wrist before Wonder Woman yanked on the lasso as hard as she could, sending him flying towards the Amazon princess.

She charged towards him as he tumbled through the air, catching him in a picture perfect clothesline, breaking his jaw with her arm. Before Corvus could heal and reorient himself, Wonder Woman wrapped the lasso around his torso, trapping his arms, and threw him into a wall. He fell to his knees with a grunt, off balance.

"I compel you to surrender!" Wonder Woman shouted. There was such a strong tone of command in her voice that it seemed to reverberate throughout the room. The rope began to glow as she channeled her willpower into the magical lasso.

Corvus reeled back as if struck.

"Surrender?" He choked the word out through teeth grit with the mental effort of fighting against the compulsion. "What, now?"

He braced himself on unsteady legs. Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed.

The mystical rope glowed even brighter as she attempted to exert her will through the lasso's magic, but Corvus remained standing. He grunted, resisting with a strength of will that even Diana had to respect. "Do I seem like the sort of weak minded scum you can influence with some cheap tricks?"

Corvus' trembling hands reached up and closed around the lasso's taut length, and he pulled. He was concentrating too hard on fighting the overwhelming urge to lie down and give up, which meant that he wasn't using his full strength, but even so, Wonder Woman unwillingly skidded forward, toward the Talon.

"Have I given you any sign that I want to quit?" Corvus asked, voice growing less strained, more sure of itself. Again he pulled, and again Wonder Woman skidded towards him.

"You just don't get it do you?!" He said as pulled Wonder Woman forwards till she was roughly three arms lengths away, and began to laugh. "I'm having the time of my life!"

This time as Corvus pulled, Wonder Woman let go of the lasso. The sudden slack caused Corvus to stumble backwards.

As he tipped off balance, Wonder Woman lunged forward and seized him by the collar of his armor. Her other hand grabbed hold of Corvus' utility belt, and she hauled the flailing Talon high overhead. Letting out a fierce war cry, Wonder Woman brought him crashing down, back first, onto the anvil of her extended knee.

Corvus broke in half. There was no other way to put it. There was a bone breaking crunch, and his spine bent backwards at an obtuse angle, almost perpendicular to his hips.

Wonder Woman grimaced in distaste. As heroes, they always tried to avoid inflicting more pain than absolutely necessary to achieve victory, but it was clear that Corvus was a dangerous fighter who needed to be stopped. Even with regenerative capabilities, it would take a few minutes at least to heal the damage that had been done to the sensitive tissues of his spine.

As she released her grip, letting his body flop onto the ground, Corvus released his grip on several round spheres that he'd been holding in his hands.

Grenades.

Wonder Woman reacted instinctively, raising her arms to protect her face. What kind of lunatic used grenades as close range weapons?

The miniature explosives detonated simultaneously. Her bracelets and armor shielded her from the worst of the shrapnel, but the concussive shockwaves still knocked her about. She landed on the floor, skidding back from the force of the blasts.

She got up on one knee and looked around quickly, only to discover that Corvus had disappeared. A quick search revealed no trace of him.

Wonder Woman was still looking around warily for the elusive assassin when a length of her own lasso looped around her neck.

"Gotcha."

Corvus yanked on the lengths of unbreakable rope he held in his hands, cutting of Wonder Woman's supply of air to her lungs, and blood to her brain.

"Nice try beautiful," he told her, "but I'm a walking nerve cluster. It takes a lot more than a broken spine to paralyze me."

Despite the fact that Corvus had gotten the drop on her, Wonder Woman reacted expertly. This wasn't the first time someone with super-strength had attempted to strangle her to death. Rather than going for the rope drawn around her neck, she went for her attacker, driving an elbow into his ribs.

Corvus grunted as his ribs cracked under her superhuman strength, but he maintained his death grip on his makeshift garrote. He regained his balance and stomped down on the back of Wonder Woman's leg just below the knee in reply. The blow collapsed Wonder Woman's leg, forcing her down onto her knees, where she didn't have the leverage to resist.

"Shhh…" He whispered tenderly, "Easy now. Just let it happen."

Her struggles began to slow, become less coordinates: even demigods needed blood to reach their brains in order to function.

Still, she continued to fight back, reaching blindly behind her in an attempt to grab his hands and wrench his grip free. Even though he evaded her flailing limbs with ease, Corvus was impressed with her fighting spirit. He hadn't been lying; he truly was having the time of his life. He'd never been challenged like this before.

Corvus was so busy relishing the sounds of his opponent being strangled to death that he failed to notice the threat Batman at him. The dark knight smashed into his upper back with both feet, causing Corvus to tip forward.

Quickly, still balancing precariously on the Talon's massive shoulders, Batman slammed two handfuls of a putty looking substance into Corvus' eyes.

Corvus snarled, but before he could reach out and grab Batman, Wonder Woman's grasping arms finally wrapped around his neck in a vise like grip.

Wonder Woman heaved with all of her strength, causing Corvus to lose his grip as he was tossed away.

The same instant he impacted with the far wall was the same instant the plastic explosives Batman had jammed into his eyes detonated. His enhanced skull protected his brain from the blast, but his eyes weren't so lucky: The unnaturally colored orbs were instantly vaporized completely by the blast.

A shower of loose rubble rained down on him, removing him from Batman and Wonder Woman's immediate sight.

Batman knelt down by Wonder Woman, helping her untangle the lasso from around her neck. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice softening slightly from the usual gravelly tone he adopted while wearing the cowl.

It took Wonder Woman a second to stop coughing and recover her breath. "I'm fine." She gasped. "Where is he?"

As if responding to her question, the debris that had buried Corvus began to stir. Suddenly, with a roar that was nothing short of bestial, his gauntleted fist burst free from the rubble.

"Check on Superman and take care of the rest of the Talons." Batman told her as Corvus began to emerge "He's mine."

Wonder Woman didn't argue. Batman knew his limitations, and he wasn't one to make idle boasts. He had a plan.

Corvus was still roaring as Wonder Woman's feet left the ground and she flew towards Superman's unconscious body. He smashed through the rubble that had buried him, pulling himself free with ease.

His roars of pain stopped as he got to his feet, though his breathing remained heavy and pained. The empty sockets where Corvus' eyes had been were still steaming faintly, but they still fixed on Batman in an unnerving, sightless gaze.

With Corvus' mask gone, the dark knight could see the tight smile on Corvus' face.

"Who knew the hero without powers would be the most annoying to deal with."


	15. Depredation

**Parliament Grove,**

 **The Aegean Sea,**

 **05:18 EEST**

 **January 12** **th** **, 2018**

Joseph led the way in 's hijacked body, with Sean and Jason following along in his wake. Jason cradled Lorena as he worked his way through the long winding corridors, while Sean did the same with Joseph's comatose body.

According to the scattered memories that Joseph had managed to piece together from 's brain, he was leading them towards an underwater dock that had some small submarines that they could use to escape.

The halls were mostly deserted, though they occasionally passed personnel who lived and worked at Parliament Grove rushing to and fro. The odd group drew some furtive glances from the Court's staff, but if they were surprised by 's current entourage, they weren't willing to show it. In truth, in such a rigidly hierarchical organization, no lowly member of the Court's staff would have been willing to challenge such a ranking member of the Court's leadership, especially one who had a reputation for unrestrained human experimentation.

The earlier trembling and shaking underfoot that had prompted their initial flight was weaker, but still noticeable.

"You." Joseph said through , pointing at a white clad lab technician who had been hurrying by, trying not to be noticed.

"S-s-sir!" The man stopped in his tracks, clearly fearful. He averted his gaze from Jason and Sean, who were still spattered in blood.

"What's going on?"

"I-i-it's the Batman and the Justice League. They're here." The man stammered. "The Grandmaster ordered us all into our shelters until the threat has passed."

The expression on 's face was unreadable, though the technician was so terrified that he missed the hopeful expressions that Sean and Jason gave each other. When the Joseph turned to look at his two friends, the technician scurried off so quickly that he was already down the hall before Joseph could try and stop him.

"The Justice League?" Jason whispered hopefully.

"You were right." Joseph told him, just as astonished. "They came for us."

Jason nodded, still stunned. Back when they'd been in the Labyrinth, during one of the few periods of rest that they'd managed to grab, the others had listened in indulgent silence when he told them how the Dark Knight had pulled him off the streets. He knew that they didn't believe him, but then the desire to escape the Labyrinth had been so all-consuming that he hadn't bothered pressing the issue.

His subsequent experiences in the Labyrinth had led him to accept his own death as something imminent and inescapable, but now, to have his faith in Batman and the Justice League rewarded lifted his spirits beyond belief.

"We still need to stay alive long enough for them to rescue us." Sean noted, awkwardly holding Joseph's original body as best as he could while trying to avoid aggravating his friend's surgical wounds. "I think we should still follow our original plan and get out of here. We don't know where the Justice League is, and there's no telling how long it will take them to find us."

"Right." Joseph nodded, grimacing slightly and pressing a hand to his head as he tried to remember the way out. It was clear to Jason that mentally accessing 's memories caused a not inconsiderable amount of pain to his friend.

They still had no idea what was going on with Joseph, or what the Doctor had done to him in the operating theater, but this wasn't the time to worry about it.

"We're not too far." Joseph said after a moment. "We can get to the dock in 10 minutes if we hurry."

"Then let's hurry." Jason said, hefting Lorena's weight with newfound strength. Hope burned hot in his chest as Joseph led the way towards freedom.

The grille burst free from the ceiling of the Court's central control room, ripped clean out of its mountings by the force of Robin kicking out. It dropped almost thirty feet to the floor, bouncing off a computer bank before landing with a loud clatter upon the hard stone below.

Robin followed after it milliseconds later, angling himself to avoid any obstacles as he descended rapidly. The parkour skills Batman had taught him and the strength enhancing nature of his suit meant that the long fall was not only survivable, but that his landing was near silent.

Like Batman, he'd memorized what he could of the base's blueprints before his holographic computer had been destroyed, which meant that finding his way here through the air vents had been a relative cakewalk.

The Court's control room was massive. It reminded Robin of NASA's mission control center; rows of computers where technicians could coordinate the Court's operations around the globe were lined up facing a series of centrally mounted screens.

He'd expected it to be well guarded, but in defiance of that expectation, the room was silent.

Silent, but not empty. There were bodies everywhere, slumped over computer terminals, lying face down in the walkways between workstations. Dozens of them, all wearing utilitarian uniforms and face masks that Robin had learned to associate with the staff of Parliament Grove.

For a moment, he feared that the creatures that he and Batman had fought earlier had managed to escape their confinement, but as he examined the closest body, the truth came to light.

He scanned it with the IR cameras built into his mask. 37 degrees celsius. Their bodies were still relatively close to normal human temperature, which meant these control room technicians had died recently, within the last hour or so at most.

With a lack of squeamishness and familiarity that only someone who faced death on a daily basis could achieve, he turned the body over and peered closely at the wounds. Once that was done, he checked another body, more to be thorough than any real need for more evidence. Just as he suspected, the technicians had been killed with quick, precise cuts that had all hit major blood vessels. He'd seen this kind of bladework before.

Talons.

Robin frowned as he stood up from his examination. The Court had killed its own people as soon as they'd realized that Batman and Robin had arrived, slaughtered them without mercy in order to ensure that its staff took whatever knowledge they had to their graves.

He tried the nearest computer bank, which turned out to be just as dead as its operators. They'd cut off the power.

Frustrated but undeterred, Robin tapped the edge of his mask, activating its magnetic vision mode. It was a limited version of the X-Ray vision that Superman enjoyed, but in some ways, more useful.

For instance, the Court's interior was lead lined as a precaution against radiation. Where Superman's x-ray vision would have been thwarted, Robin's magnetic vision let him see through the radiation shielding to see the the outlines of objects like power lines and fibre optic cables running through the walls, like the circulatory system of some gigantic creature.

Most of the cables ended up clustering together and running downwards, further into the Court's depths, probably to where their power plants and data centers were located. However, one branch split off from the rest, leading off through the main exit of the control room.

A further scan revealed that the cable bundle still had power. Interesting.

Robin followed the hidden cable bundle outside the control room, which ended up leading to another room. The instant he saw it, he knew that this was where he would find the Grandmaster. In contrast to the control room, which had been sleek but utilitarian in the extreme, the doors of this room were clearly expensive and well built.

He wasted no time, grabbed a breaching charge from his belt and placing it on the door.

It detonated with a moments later with a concussive _whump_ , reducing the hand carved mahogany doors to splinters. Robin swept into the room even before the doors had finished falling, ready to catch any guards in the room by surprise, but his efforts were wasted.

"No need to worry, boy wonder." The Grandmaster sat at his desk, watching an array of screens mounted on the wall, unfazed by Robin's sudden and dramatic appearance. The screens displayed high definition security footage of the confrontation going on below them. On one screen, Batman backflipped away from a wild blow from Corvus, while on another Superman backhanded a random Talon, sending him flying.

Robin scanned the room for traps or other hidden mechanisms, but as far as he could tell, iit was devoid of any threats.

"Your companions are taking care of the last of my Talons as we speak." The Grandmaster told him, giving the screens one last glance before turning to face the boy wonder. He shrugged and gestured at the empty room around them before placing his hands, palm up, on his desk. "I'm all that's left."

"Where are the kids?" Robin demanded, voice low.

"They were in the operating theater, but we've since lost them in the chaos of your attack." The Grandmaster gave a theatrical shake of his head. "Do you have any idea how much damage you and your companions have done?"

Robin stalked forward, ignoring the Grandmaster's question."You'll pay for what you did to those kids."

"What I did to them?" The Grandmaster asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. He sounded mildly surprised.

"You kidnapped them and experimented on them." Robin said, trying and failing to keep the anger in his voice in check. "You killed some, and turned the ones that you didn't into psychopathic killers!"

"Yes, we did." The Grandmaster told him impassively, making the admission without a shred of hesitation or guilt. "And if we hadn't, those kids would have all suffered and died anyway. Do you know where we found most of them? Sewers. Brothels. War-zones. Places beyond the reach beyond the reach of you and your so-called Justice League."

He gestured at Robin with a nod of his head. "Those children were chosen because they were victims long before we found them. We simply gave their insignificant lives a chance to make a real difference in the world. We gave them the chance to make their suffering mean something."

Robin had spoken with enough zealots to know when further dialogue was a losing battle.

Even so, one last question forced its way from his throat. "Is that really what you think?"

"No." The Grandmaster said solemnly. "It's what I _know_."

He let the answer hang in the air between them for a moment before reaching up for his mask.

Robin blinked in surprise as the Grandmaster pulled off his mask and revealed his age wizened features. It wasn't the face itself that surprised him; the Grandmaster wasn't anyone that he'd heard of or met before.

Rather, it was the Grandmaster's eyes. The wrinkled skin around them did nothing to hide the surgical scars that radiated outwards. The sclera of his eyes were black, and their irises were inhumanely white. Not exactly the black and yellow eyes of the Talons that Robin had fought before, but close enough for him to put together the truth: the Grandmaster was, or had been, a Talon.

The Grandmaster placed his mask face up on his desk, gazing at its sculpted features for a moment before looking up at Robin. "Such a shame."

Robin's eyes widened at the Grandmaster's tone. There was something in it that sent alarm bells ringing in his head. He reached up immediately for the comm devices in his ear. "Batman, get out n-!"

The explosion shook the world.

—

It was felt by Jason and his friends, as they emerged from the elevator that they'd used to descend to underground level where the Court had built a submarine dock. They were only several corridors away from being able to escape.

The massive explosion at the heart of the Court's base was relatively distant, but the tremors it caused knocked the group off of their feet, cracking the walls and sending chips of rock raining from the ceiling.

Jason was at the very back of the group, with Sean and Joseph ahead. With his arms occupied holding Lorena and unable to break his fall, Jason turned as he fell, intending to use his own body to cushion Lorena from the fall.

His plan worked, but caught as he was between Lorena and the floor, the heavy impact drove the wind out of him. While his friends got back up relatively quickly, he was still struggling to rise to his knees with a body robbed of oxygen.

Lorena stirred unexpectedly in his arms as Jason tried to catch his breath. The slight movement, coming after her long period of lying comatose, drew his attention instantly. "Lorena?" He whispered hopefully, their current peril forgotten.

He was so preoccupied with trying to coax his friend back to life that he failed to notice the ceiling coming apart above his head. Massive chunks of rock, each big enough to crush a man, fell towards him in a loose spray.

"Look out!" Joseph shouted at them through .

For such an old relatively frail looking man, the Doctor leapt forward surprisingly fast, propelled by Joseph's sheer force of will. His palms slammed into Jason's back, propelling him forward, back into the protective enclosure of the elevator that they had just vacated just as the massive rock fell into the space that Jason and Lorena had occupied moments before.

As he fell, out of the corner of his eye, Jason caught sight of the Doctor's death. The debris crushed him instantly, with only the barest hint of resistance as his body was reduced to paste.

Another explosion shook the Court's base. The cables holding the elevator in place creaked and swayed worryingly as Jason landed within its confines. Suddenly, with the massive wrenching sound of metal tearing free from metal, the elevator dropped.

The lights flickered out of existence.

With the elevator's door still open, there was a deafening storm of noise and sparks as the elevator began to free fall.

It was almost a relief to Jason when the elevator crashed into the bottomost floor of Parliament Grove's depths, knocking him unconscious, leaving him in blessed silence and darkness once more.

—-

It was felt by Batman and Corvus, as they dueled each other in the rubble of what had been a well decorated foyer mere moments ago.

Corvus' head smashed into the base of a marble staircase, propelled there by a punch that he hadn't seen coming, for obvious reasons. A devastating follow up punch smashed into his skull, cracking bone and splintering the dense stone under the impact. He lashed out with a backhand, but blinded, his attack was angled poorly and he succeeded only in smashing a marble pillar to pieces while Batman leapt backwards out of range.

Corvus gave a grunt of amusement as shards of marble rained down on him and his opponent. His enhanced senses of hearing and smell told him exactly where Batman was, but that knowledge was no substitute for true sight. After all, it was rather difficult to hear a wall, at least until he smashed into it.

His eye sockets no longer steamed, and a jelly like substance had begun to form as his regenerative abilities came into play, but it would still be at least a half hour before his eyes could completely heal.

The problem was, he didn't have that kind of time.

Even if their current fight was a stalemate, every minute Batman kept him occupied was a minute for Superman and Wonder Woman to finish off his lesser brethren, and then come to the dark knight's aid. Corvus was confident in his ability to kill each of them one on one, but his chances of beating them all at once in this state were laughably slim.

Corvus' wry smile remained fixed on his face. The knowledge that he was going to lose didn't trouble him much. After all, winning had never truly been the point of this confrontation.

For his part, Batman stood ready in a defensive stance as he tried to catch his breath. Strategically, he had the advantage, but tactically, his options were limited. He'd used up all of the throwables in his utility belt trying everything he could think of to stop Corvus: burying him in rubble, blowing off individual limbs.

Nothing had worked, and now all that he had left to fight with were his own strength and skills.

Still, his ultimate strategy of keeping Corvus busy until his two companions could help take the Talon down would likely prove successful, if he could stay alive long enough for them to get to him.

Batman was about to leap into the attack again when Robin's voice crackled into life. "Batman, get out n-!"

Whatever else Robin was going to say was lost as the sound of an explosion burst over the comm. At the same time, there was the audible thud of a distance explosion. The ground trembled slightly, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

"Robin!" Batman looked up involuntarily, concerned over what had happened to his protege.

The momentary distraction was all Corvus needed to lunge forward, inhumanly quick, and catch Batman in a crushing bear hug. The Talon lifted Batman up, so that his feet dangled a full meter off the floor.

"I want to thank you Batman, truly, from the bottom of my heart." Corvus told him with a leering, eyeless grin. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

Another explosion, this one louder and more powerful, shook the ground. Corvus looked up in anticipation, perfectly balanced despite the struggling weight and shifting ground. "It's time." Still smiling, Corvus opened his mouth and brought his teeth crashing against each other. "Let me show you just how grateful I am."

Batman recognized the movement as the one Shrike had used in their fight days earlier in order to trigger his suicide mechanism. Just as before, the sensors built into his cowl detected a rapid build up of heat in Corvus' hulking form.

He struggled to escape, but against an opponent of Corvus' strength and skill, and without any gadgets or leverage, it was all he could do to keep his muscles flexed in order to avoid having his rib cage crushed.

The Talon incrementally increased the pressure that he was exerting, eliminating any free space Batman could use to break free. This close, Batman could feel the temperature rising, even through the insulated armor he was wearing.

Steam began to emanate from Corvus as his blood began to boil: it spilled forth from his eye sockets, hissed out from between his smiling teeth. "This is going to be great." Corvus breathed.

There was red flash, accompanied by a burst of searing heat, and Batman suddenly fell backwards, free from Corvus' crushing grip. Corvus' heavily muscled arms flopped onto the ground next to him, still steaming at the bicep where Superman had neatly severed them with his heat vision.

Corvus' head swivelled, fixated on the sound of Superman's cape fluttering through the air as the man of steel rushed at him at full speed. Corvus raised the severed stumps of his arms up in the air, as if to ward off an attack, just as Superman's outstretched fist crashed into his chin.

Superman's punch sent him tumbling backwards through the air. "Hnh." Corvus muttered under his breath, feeling his blood begin to boil. "That hardly seems fair."

He detonated in mid air, body bursting apart in time with another explosion as the demolition charges laid throughout Parliament Grove continued to go about their work. What few pieces of Corvus' body that remained intact were obstructed from view as the blast wave created a cloud of superheated, bloody steam and sent shards of super-hard bone slicing through the air.

Bits of organic debris was still pinging off of both heroes as the man of steel turned and grabbed his colleague by the gauntlet. "Hold on!" Superman told him. Without giving Batman a chance to reply, Superman lifted them both off the ground and flew towards the nearest wall with his free hand outstretched, seeking to escape the base before it destroyed itself.

Another explosion rang out, closer and more powerful than the last. They smashed through corridors that were filled with rubble, and others filled with smoke and fire. Parliament Grove was in its final death throes.

Flames roared out of the openings they left behind, and rubble bounced off of Batman's armor as he was dragged along in Superman's wake, but despite the danger that he was in, his only thought was of his young protege.

What had happened to Robin?

—-

The explosions rocked the whole complex, throwing Robin and the Grandmaster off balance as the ground heaved and shattered beneath their feet.

In an ironic twist of fate, the only thing that had prevented them from being killed instantly was the fact that Parliament Grove had been so well designed. After all, the Court's base had been designed to withstand a direct hit by a nuclear warhead; a massive internal explosion, while devastating, would most likely have left portions of Parliament Grove intact.

Instead, explosive charges built into each level of Parliament Grove detonated in meticulously timed detonations, breaking the bedrock apart, and causing the internal structure of the Court's base to collapse inwards. It was a relatively slower method of destruction, but much more thorough in the long run.

Even as he was tossed through the air like a rag doll, Robin reacted expertly, drawing his grapnel launcher and launching it into the ceiling. The crumbling rock didn't support his weight for more than a few seconds, but the momentary halt allowed him to evade the worst of the debris as it fell into the yawning cavity that had opened up beneath him.

The Grandmaster was less fortunate. He'd once been just as physically capable as Robin, but those days were decades past. When the polished marble floor under his feet broke apart, he toppled backwards into the dark, unable to escape the destruction he had wrought.

Both the Grandmaster and Robin fell hundreds of feet as each level of the base below them broke apart, tumbling into the darkness alongside everything from priceless art to cutting edge machinery.

Suddenly, a loop of golden rope wrapped around Robin's wrist and drew taut, almost yanking Robin's arm out of its socket, but also bringing him out of his sure to be terminal descent. Before Robin could thank Wonder Woman for rescuing him, she pulled him into a one handed embrace and flew as fast as she could, smashing through Parliament Grove's exterior and to safety.

In contrast, the Grandmaster's descent was brought to an abrupt halt as he smashed into the ruins of the Labyrinth at the very bottom of the Court's base. The devastating impact left most of his body as a broken and bloody smear on the ground, but the enhancements he'd undergone decades ago let the Grandmaster survive, at least for a few more seconds.

He gazed upwards as the final round of detonations erupted. These were designed not to hollow out and empty Parliament Grove, but to finally bring the base down entirely, burying anyone or anything that hadn't been destroyed beneath a literal mountain of rubble.

Despite the immense pain that he was in, and the oncoming wave of debris that would kill him in a few more moments, the Grandmaster forced himself to suck in one last breath in order to speak the words that had defined the entirety of his life.

"Noctis Aeternum."

*Crunch*


	16. Alone in the Dark

**Parliament Grove,**

 **The Aegean Islands**

 **06:27 EEST**

 **January 19th, 2012**

Jason woke suddenly, with a violent series of deep and shuddering coughs as his body tried to expel the grit that had accumulated in his lungs while he'd been unconscious.

Once his lungs were clear and the convulsions had stopped, he tried to sit up, but found that the movement was much more difficult than he'd expected.

His body ached, and the surgical gown he'd been wearing had been torn to shreds. He pressed a hand to wipe away the blood dripping from a cut to his temple.

With the elevator doors open, rubble had rushed in to fill the cab, burying him almost up to his thighs in rubble. Originally the elevator had been large enough to accommodate an SUV, but now the roof of the elevator had also been crumpled inward by the immense weight bearing down on them, leaving it almost half of its original height.

Jason searched the area around him desperately, but as far as he could see, he was alone. What few battery powered emergency lights that hadn't been smashed were weak, and partially obscured by the wreckage around him, leaving him enough light to see by, but little else.

"Lorena!" He called out, voice echoing in the confined space.

There was no reply.

He'd been holding onto her when Joseph had thrown him into the elevator, but he'd lost her in the crash. He had to find her.

"Lorena!" He called out once more, frantic. Even as he shouted, he shifted the rubble as best he could, digging with his bare hands, kicking his legs about in order to work them free from their confinement.

He managed to work his way free after several seconds. He was just about to call out again when he spotted a small, familiar hand sticking out of the rubble nearby.

 _No!_

Jason practically threw himself forward, digging his bare hands into the rubble, moving as much as he could as fast as he could.

If Joseph and Sean hadn't been killed by the collapse, then they almost certainly had been by the subsequent explosions. If Lorena died, he'd be the only one-.

 _No._ He pushed those thoughts away with a small shake of his head even as he continued to dig. _Lorena won't die._ It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. Even with everything that had happened, it would be too unjust, too cruel, for her to die now.

Luckily, she hadn't been buried too deep. Within moments, he'd shifted enough debris to uncover her head and shoulders. Blood matted a portion of her hair from a shallow cut to her scalp, but she was still breathing.

She was still alive.

"Hold on Lorena," he breathed, doubling his efforts. "I'll get you out."

He worked for a few more moments, but froze as he managed to clear the debris that had obscured her torso.

The wound was a blatant one: a metal strut, most likely a piece of the elevator that had sheltered them, had been driven straight through her torso, pinning her to the floor.

Blood stained the dirty white fabric of her surgical gown and painted the rubble beneath her.

Despite everything that had happened, all the horrors he'd glimpsed and the pain that he'd endured, what Jason saw chilled him to his core. He knelt there, unmoving, unable to accept what he was seeing with his eyes.

Lorena shuddered as she took in her first unconstricted breath, no longer buried under the crushing weight of the debris. The movement finally broke him out of his shocked stupor.

He couldn't pull the strut out; right now, it was the only thing that was stopping her from bleeding to death right then and there. His efforts at freeing her forgotten, Jason reached out and cradled her broken form as best he could, arms wrapping around her with possessive, protective strength.

Clinging to hope, he stroked her hair gently, praying that she could hear him. "Lorena. Please, wake up."

Just as before, there was no response.

"Please." He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Please."

 _Please don't die. Not now, not when we've come so close to escaping. Please don't let me the only one who makes it out of this._

He whispered the word over and over again.

Her blood coated his fingers where it had begun to drip onto them. His vision blurred as tears formed in his eyes.

 _Please don't leave me here, alone in the dark._

He was so focused on his silent plea that he didn't realize that she'd moved until he felt her trembling hand reach up to grasp the hand that had been stroking her hair.

"Jason?" Lorena whispered.

Even though they were right next to each other, her voice was so weak that it was almost too faint for Jason to hear.

"It's me." He assured her, arms still cradling her against him. "I'm here."

"I'm cold." She moaned. Lorena took in a sharp breath, shuddering as the pain of her wounds washed over her. "It hurts…"

"I know." He told her sadly, wishing there was something, anything he could do. "You've been hurt, badly. But you have to hold on, just a little longer."

"Batman and the Justice League are here. They'll find us." Jason said, willing the words to be true. "They'll save us."

Despite the pain, Lorena gave a faint smile at that, the simple joy of being comforted by a dear friend. It was a luxury that she'd never experienced before.

She raised a trembling hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently.

"You're a terrible liar." Lorena told him, her voice the faintest of whispers.

She died in his arms before he could answer.

—

They found him, hours later, sitting in the confines of his unintentional shelter. The emergency lighting had run out of power by that point, which had left him sitting alone in impenetrable darkness, with only his grief to pass the time.

His arms were still wrapped around Lorena's limp body, which had long since gone cold in his grip.

Later, he would learn that Superman had led Batman and Robin to him by following the sound of his heartbeat, still audible despite the hundreds of meters of debris that had been piled on top of him. They'd had to dig their way down to him carefully, in order to avoid shifting the debris further and inadvertently collapsing it on top of him.

He would learn that he was the only survivor that they'd found apart from several Chimera, whose regenerative capabilities had allowed them to survive, if only just.

But that would happen later, after they'd rescued him.

The metal of the elevator's cabin shifted and creaked as the weight bearing down on it shifted. The rubble behind him was pulled aside, with the gravelly crunch of rock grinding against rock.

Jason had been too lost in his memories and grief to notice any of it. He didn't even notice when the darkness of his confinement was broken by the click of a flashlight being switched on. The only thing that he truly saw in his mind's eye, in the darkness that had consumed him, were the deaths of his friends.

James' disembowelled corpse, covered with blood. Chris, with dark red blotches under his skin from where he'd been bleeding from internal injuries. The crushed ruins that were surely all that was left of Joseph and Sean from the explosion and subsequent collapse.

Lorena. She'd had such a peaceful expression on her face. If he hadn't been there for her final moments, he never would have known that she'd died cold and in pain.

"Jason." A familiar voice broke the silence, bringing Jason's awareness back to the present.

Blankly, he turned to look at the voice's owner over his shoulder. Robin peered down at him from a small hole that had been cleared in the rubble that had rushed to fill the front of the elevator.

Whatever Robin was going to say next died in his throat as he fully took in the state of the boy in front of him. Jason was covered with so much dust that he looked like a ghost, drab and grey. The sole exception was his face, where tears had cut through the dust caking his youthful features, leaving two clear, almost bright streaks of skin visible under the illumination of his flashlight.

What truly surprised him were Jason's eyes. They were dull and glassy, almost like a corpse, showing little of the spirited boy that he and Batman had pulled off of the street little more than two weeks ago.

Robin knew that look, had known it since that fateful day when he had been forced to watch his family plummet to their deaths six years ago.

"Take my hand." Robin said, reaching out to Jason through the crevice that he'd dug. It would have been more logical to wait until Superman to finish digging Jason out in order to reach out to him, but at that moment, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Jason blinked as he stared at the boy wonder, as if he couldn't comprehend what the older boy had said. Then, slowly, just as mechanically as when he'd first turned to look, he turned his back on his would be rescuer, content to sit in the darkness until he joined his friends.


	17. The End of the Beginning

**January 20th, 2012**

 **Vienna, Austria**

 **17:00 CEST**

12 figures sat, equally spaced, along two edges of a long, elegantly carved table. These men and women, each of varying age and ethnicity, were the Orators: senior members of the Court's Parliament, second only to the Grandmaster in authority. With the Grandmaster dead, it fell to them to oversee the installation of his successor.

They each wore a white porcelain mask, stylized to resemble the features of an owl.

"We gather to pay tribute to our most noble leader." The first orator, an elderly woman, said to the camera at the end of the table.

"Our former Grandmaster was a man of prominence beyond his role as our executive power," said another, this one a young man. The handoff in conversation was a reflection of the Court's philosophy. Different people from different backgrounds, yet they all conveyed one message, spoke with one voice.

"History will never know the role he played in shaping the events of our time."

"Only we will know the truth."

"Through the interference of Batman and the Justice League, what should have been a moment of triumph for the Court was turned into a moment of profound loss, unprecedented in our history."

"Despite their interference, our present concern is that The Court of Owls is currently without an arbiter, and that is truly intolerable."

"However, thanks to our Talons, who are unwavering in their service, the Grandmaster's will has been made known to us."

At that, a golden mask mounted on a stand slid up from a recessed mechanism located at the head of the table. Anyone who was watching the broadcast would have recognized it instantly.

"A successor has been chosen. One our former leader believed was worthy of the task of leading this Court."

At that, a man emerged from the purposefully created shadows behind the table.

Lincoln March.

His features were recognizable, for, in contrast to the other members of the inner council, he wore no mask. He took a seat at the head of the table, behind the golden mask that marked the Court's position of ultimate authority.

"Brothers and sisters of the Court." He began, "I know that my succession comes as a shock. Unlike many of you, I wasn't born into this organization, nor was I brought up on its teachings, as our previous Grandmaster was."

"That being said, I was chosen because believe in the Court, and what it stands for. We of the Court are burdened with the knowledge of a simple truth: Humanity must embrace order, or it shall embrace oblivion. If we are to fulfill our duty of leading mankind to a glorious future, we must be secure and committed. Secrecy is, as always, our most potent weapon."

"The Justice League thinks that they've won. Our Grandmaster himself gave his life to sell the lie that we were beaten. The worst thing we can do now is throw away our men and resources in a pointless war against some of the most powerful beings on Earth for nothing more than petty revenge."

"We shall have our vengeance, but it shall come at a place of our choosing, at a time where it is of the most benefit to us." Lincoln gestured at the room around him, at the trappings of power that the Court had acquired through centuries of existence. "The Court has existed since the dawn of civilization. It has persevered through dynasties and empires. To belong to it is to belong to something far grander than ourselves."

He stood up, and slowly, with reverent hands, he picked up the mask of of his new office. The Orators, and every member of the Court watching the broadcast, stood up as well. "Remember, we are men and women of vision, and purpose. We judge ourselves, not by our means, but by what we seek to accomplish."

"We see through the darkness. We watch and guide the world from the shadows. We work while the rest of humanity sleeps." Lincoln lifted the ornate mask up to his face. It slid into place easily, as if it had been made just for him.

"We are the Court of Owls!" He declared, spreading his arms wide. "Noctis Aeternum!"

In six of the seven continents, in boardrooms and palaces, in temples and mansions, members of the Court of Owls paid homage to their new leader. Some bowed, some knelt, some saluted, each demonstrating their loyalty as they deemed appropriate. The one thing that remained in common amongst them were the words that they uttered.

"Noctis Aeternum!" The members of the Court replied as one.

"Noctis Aeternum!"

— **STAR Labs Paris**

 **January 22nd, 2012**

 **11:02 CEST Team Year One**

 _Black and yellow eyes, stalking him through the darkness. No matter how far or how fast he runs, no matter where he hides, those inhuman eyes are always there, watching his every move._

 _The gaze has a physical presence to it, a pressure that seems to increase the longer it stares at him. At first it was like a weight on his shoulders. Now it feels like he's being crushed._

 _His body comes apart under the sheer intensity of the sensation. His blood spills everywhere, fills his senses completely. The sticky feel of it coating his skin. The iron rich taste on the tip of his tongue. The stink of it filling his nostrils, coating his lungs._

 _He can't breathe. He needs air, but there's only blood. He opens his mouth to gasp and-_

Jason woke up with a scream, shooting upright in his bed. His heartbeat was a rapid thud in his chest, with the bitter taste of adrenaline on his tongue. His breath came in short gasps, and his sheets and clothes were completely soaked through with sweat.

"Is everything alright?" The voice came from the intercom mounted next to his bed.

Even before he'd caught his breath, Jason jabbed the button on the intercom's housing, muscle memory allowing him to find it without looking.

"I'm fine." He managed to gasp before removing his hand from the transmit button.

The line stayed silent this time, a fact for which Jason was grateful. The first few times, STAR Labs personnel had burst into the room without warning, searching the room for threats. He was there as a guest of the Justice League, which meant that they were trying to see to his every need.

He took advantage of the relative calm to press his palms into his eyes, as if trying to drive away the images his subconscious had conjured into being.

This had happened every night since he'd been rescued. What sleep that he'd managed to get had been short and fragmented, never more than a couple of hours at a time. The days had passed by in a similar blur of medical checkups and counseling sessions. The former had been conducted by STAR labs doctors, who had given him a clean bill of health, while the latter had been conducted by a Doctor named Leslie Thompkins.

From what he'd been able to pick up, she didn't work for STAR Labs. He'd overheard several of the nurses talking about how Batman had requested that she be brought in to oversee his counseling sessions.

In truth, Jason found it difficult to care. When she had asked him questions about how he was feeling and what had happened, he'd answered, but otherwise he'd ignored her attempts to engage with him.

His friends were dead, and he was still alive. What else was there to say?

When he finally managed to get his breathing under control, Jason got out of bed and walked over to the window.

He needed some air.

"How is he?" Batman asked as she sat at the desk the STAR labs personnel had cleared for her. The two of them were essentially alone; He'd ordered Robin to spend some time with the Team in order to decompress from the affair with the Court of Owls, and apart from a skeleton crew who kept the facility manned at night, the building was empty.

sighed, massaging eyes that had seen too much horror, especially of late. "Physically, he's fine. But mentally… If even half of what he told me happened there is true, it's a miracle he survived."

Batman frowned, but said nothing to contradict her. After all, she was right.

It was difficult to see their rescue of Jason as anything other than a near-complete failure, from start to finish.

A key component of his mission was to identify threats before they showed themselves, but he hadn't even suspected an organization like the Court had existed. worse, they'd operated under his very nose, killed, kidnapped, and tortured with impunity for decades.

The authorities were still recovering bodies from the ruins of Parliament Grove, and they weren't even close to being finished. Given the sheer scale of the destruction, it was very likely that he and Robin wouldn't be able to learn anything further about the Court.

And perhaps the worst part was that their one success had come through sheer luck rather than any real skill on their part. Jason still lives, not through any skill on their part, but through his own luck and determination.

"Bruce," asked, oblivious to his inner recriminations. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Bring him back to Gotham, to start. After that…" Batman trailed off. What kind of life would Jasón be able to live, after all that he'd been through?

The question lingered in his mind as he turned and left the room without another word.

He took an elevator to the ward where Jason was staying. He hoped that seeing the boy would help him figure out what to do next.

Batman entered the room silently, taking care to try and avoid waking the young boy if he had fallen asleep.

In defiance of his expectations, the room was empty.

The curtains fluttered slightly as a soft breeze drifted in from the open window.

"Jason?"

Jason sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the roof, listening to the wind. It felt good to be outside, despite the chill. The differences in architecture and layout were obvious, but looking at the skyline of a city was comforting to him. Gotham was an entire continent away, but not even his loneliness could steal the faint smile brought forth by nostalgia.

The feeling was short-lived though, as his thoughts inevitably turned back towards his friends. How many times had they talked about escaping the Labyrinth and seeing the sky once again?

His contemplation was cut short by the realization that he was no longer alone on the rooftop.

"Aren't you cold?" Batman asked him, stepping closer in an eerily silent manner.

Jason shrugged, not turning his gaze away from the view in front of them. "This is nothing compared to Gotham."

Batman undid the catches that attached his cape to his armor. Gathering the fabric in his hands, he draped the insulated material around Jason's shoulders before taking a seat next to the young boy. "I was afraid that you'd run off into the streets."

Jason glanced at Batman. "No, you weren't. You were afraid that I was going to try and kill myself."

The Dark Knight didn't reply, but then, he didn't need to; his silence told Jason everything he needed to know.

"I thought about it." Jason admitted, shrugging at the concerned look Batman gave him. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go. But my friends died to save my life. Throwing it away after all that… just didn't seem right.

"I understand." Batman said simply.

" says the same thing, but she doesn't. None of you do."

There were many adults who couldn't meet Batman's gaze, finding it too intense to stand, but Jason met it levelly, without a hint of fear or intimidation. His voice was low and soft, but there was a harsher edge in it as he spoke, one that hinted at unimaginable pain held in check only through sheer force of will. "None of you will ever understand how I feel."

Even with Batman's features hidden behind his cowl, their eyes searched each other's for long moments. Jason's eyes blazed, daring the Dark Knight to contradict him, while Batman searched for what he could see of the boy's heart.

What the dark knight saw reflected in those young eyes caused him to turn away. His gaze drifted back to the skyline. Feeling vindicated, Jason's did the same.

A pregnant pause stretched between them for a time. Batman broke the silence, first by taking in a breath, as if steeling himself for something, and then by speaking.

"You can still see their faces when you close your eyes."

Jason turned to look at the Dark Knight. His eyes were closed behind his cowl, and his voice had changed; it no longer had the gravelly undertone that had intimidated him when they'd first met. Now, it sounded more natural. More human.

"You can still hear their screams, hear them calling out to you. You miss them. You miss them so much, and you wish with every fibre of your being that they were still here, still alive. Or that you had died too, so that you'd never have had to feel the endless nothing that's there, where they used to be."

Jason said nothing at first, did nothing beyond take in a shuddery breath.

The wind picked up speed, giving it a biting, howling edge. It was all too easy to hear the voices of the lost in its breath. Jason grabbed the edges of the cape, drawing it around himself tightly. A chill had run up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold air.

"Does it ever go away?" He asked quietly.

Batman considered the question for a moment. "I don't know." The dark knight made the admission with no small amount of regret.

Another pause. "They're still out there, aren't they?"

There was no need to specify who Jason meant. "Yes."

"I want to make them pay for what they did."

"We will." Batman told him, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I promise."

 **At that same moment…**

 **Munich, Germany**

The warrior hung suspended in a tank full of bubbling liquid. His armor and weapons had been removed, exposing flesh that was unnaturally pale from a chronic lack of exposure to the sun. With his eyes closed in reflective contemplation, the only sign that the warrior still lived was the occasional burst of bubbles from the respirator mask strapped to his face.

His inhuman eyes slid open as Lincoln March walked into the room, wearing the golden mask of his new office. The lab technicians and medical orderlies in the room all nodded in respect as he passed.

The new Grandmaster acknowledged their obeisance with a wave, but kept on moving towards the tank and its occupant.

"Hello Grandmaster." The warrior's spoke as Lincoln came to a halt in front of the tank. His voice was emitted through speakers built into the tank's housing, giving it a tinnish quality. "I'd kneel, but, well..." He indicated mangled ruins of his body with a tilt of his head.

The blood and other vital fluids swirling in the tank did nothing to hide the warrior's injuries. His body from the sternum down was almost completely gone, leaving his heart and lungs visible through the charred and exposed remnants of his ribcage. His arms ended in neat cauterized stumps in the middle of his bicep. The only thing that remained of the lower two thirds of his body was his spine, trailing vertebrae and bundles of nerves like a vestigial tail.

The high-tech solution that the warrior floated in continued to go about its work, simultaneously dissolving dead, useless flesh and feeding his body the nutrients it needed to continue regenerating.

It was impossible to truly read the warrior's expression with the breathing mask strapped over his face, but despite the horrifying extent of his injuries, his eyes were full of amusement.

"Not to worry, Corvus." Lincoln said, smiling behind his mask as studied the Kryptes' exposed musculature with morbid fascination. "If anything, I should be kneeling to you. Holding off the Justice League long enough for our records at Parliament Grove to be destroyed, faking your death in spectacular fashion, and then evading detection and making your escape."

A burst of bubbles escaped the breathing mask strapped to Corvus' face as he chuckled. The sound was rendered through the tank's speaker's as a mechanical grind. "I live to serve. Did they recover the aspirant we wanted them to have?"

Lincoln nodded. "They have him at Star Labs Gotham now. Things are progressing just as my predecessor predicted."

"He was a genius." Corvus noted. "Your new mask suits you."

"Thank you, though I'm afraid I can't say the same for your current surroundings."

Corvus shrugged. The gesture looked odd coming from a man without arms or legs. "Dr. Hensersky tells me that she'll have me out of here as soon as she can."

The doors slid open again, revealing a young woman wearing the white lab coat of a Court surgeon. "Speak of the devil." Corvus said.

"Corvus, good news, I- Oh, Grandmaster!" Dr. Cynthia Hensersky, former apprentice to the late Dr. Valentin and newly appointed master surgeon, bowed her head hurriedly in respect as she stepped forward into the room.

"Hello Cynthia." The Grandmaster replied, returning the gesture. "I was just coming to check in on our champion."

"He has seen better days." Cynthia conceded, nodding at the the limbless husk in the tank in front of them.

Corvus grunted in acknowledgement. It was hard to argue with the truth. His body could repair damaged flesh and bone easily, but growing it back? That took time, even for him. He'd learned that from painful experience.

This wasn't the first time he'd needed to have new body parts made for him.

It probably wouldn't be the last either.

"We should have him up and running again relatively soon. It'll take about a week to have new bones sculpted for him. Once we get those implanted, his body will have a structure to grow muscle around."

"Good." Lincoln said, patting the tank fondly. "Enjoy your rest while you can, Corvus. The next few months are going to be very busy for you."

The Grandmaster turned away with Dr. Hensersky in tow. Recognizing that he'd been dismissed, the Kryptes' eyes slid shut once again.

"How are the two aspirants he managed to recover?" Lincoln asked as they emerged into a large, well staffed and well equipped medical wing.

"I can show you right now, actually." Cynthia informed him, gesturing for him to follow.

A quick walk took them to an room that served as both an operating theater and observation gallery, where two boys were laid out on surgical tables. Various machines around the room beeped and hummed as they monitored their vital signs.

Cynthia pointed at the first boy, a scrawny thing with sandy blonde hair. His limbs were strapped down to the top of the table, but the confinement appeared unnecessary since the boy was almost completely still. The only sign he still lived was the soft rise and fall of his chest as he drew in breath.

"This boy is the one who manifested powers. He's still in a coma that we haven't been able to rouse him out of. I've vivisected him twice, trying to see whether his powers were a result of 's modifications or the result of spontaneous mutation, but I haven't been able to draw any conclusions yet."

Lincoln hummed in thought. The security recordings that had been transmitted from Parliament Grove before its destruction were confusing, to say the least. From what he understood, this boy had managed to transfer his consciousness to Doctor Valentin and subsequently free both himself and his companions.

Originally, the Grandmaster had intended to activate Parliament Grove's self destruct mechanisms _after_ the Justice League had reached the children, not before. However, the children's unexpected escape from confinement, coupled with the boy wonder's appearance in the Grandmaster's study, had required a change in plan.

Still, things had worked out, in the end. Batman had the boy that the Court wanted him to have, and they'd managed to recover two of the three remaining aspirants.

Not a bad result at all.

"And the other one?" Lincoln asked, turning to look at the second boy.

"Him, I've finished with." Cynthia informed the Grandmaster. "He's undergone the first round of augmentation, and now we're just monitoring him to make sure his body doesn't reject them. If he survives another few days, I'll have Raptor send some Talons down so he can begin the next trial."

"Excellent." Lincoln said, moving closer to the boy's still form. "We're going to need many more like him if we're going to replace the losses we've suffered."

The Court's Grandmaster leaned in close, casting a shadow over the boy as he peered down to gaze into his new black and yellow eyes. He watched as one of the orbs twitched faintly before the paralytics running through the boy's system brought the movement to a halt.

Lincoln tilted his head in curiosity. An involuntary spasm? Or perhaps an unconscious display of fear? He considered the question for a moment before mentally shrugging. It didn't matter either way.

He leaned in close to whisper into the boy's ear. "You are going to do such great things for us."

"Welcome to the Court of Owls."


	18. Epilogue: First Flight

**Six Months Later…**

 **Athens, Greece**

 **July 3rd, 2012**

 **00:52 EET**

The gate swung open with a rusty creak, causing Jason to wince. The sound was startlingly loud in the near absolute silence of his surroundings. He'd been so focused on picking the lock as fast as he could that he'd forgotten to check the hinges.

If Bruce or Dick had been there, they would have been disappointed, with good reason. It was one of the first things that he'd learned, back when he'd started training with them: keep an eye on your surroundings.

Luckily, he was alone for now, and the sound didn't seem to have attracted any unwanted attention. Besides, given the purpose of his break in that night, he was relatively certain that Bruce and Dick would have cut him some slack.

He tucked his lockpicks back into his utility belt, hidden under the folds of his deliberately baggy shirt, before picking up the wrapped bundle at his feet and creeping through the newly opened gate.

The cemetary was unlit, but training allowed Jason to make out all the details that he needed in order to navigate towards his ultimate destination. Truth be told, he could have navigated even without training. After all, he'd been there when they buried her.

Within moments, he reached the grave that he sought. He recognized it at once, for the name etched upon the simple and unadorned grave marker was in English rather than Greek.

 _Lorena Josefina Hidalgo._

 _04/09/1998 - 19/01/2012_

Jason stood in respectful silence, looking at the grave sadly. None of the others had graves that he could visit and pay his respects to. Joseph, Sean, Chris, James. Their bodies had either been too mangled to identify, or hadn't even been recovered from the ruins of Parliament Grove in the first place. There was no way to truly tell.

It was hard to believe that it had been 6 months since he'd been rescued and Bruce had taken him in. At this point, Lorena and the others had been dead for far longer than he'd known them while they were alive.

He still felt their loss keenly. He still wanted justice for what had happened.

He knew Batman would help him get it. The Dark Knight was still working to fulfill the promise that he'd made to Jason on that rooftop, all those months ago.

The training was tough, especially at first. Jason thought that his life on the streets had made him a good fighter, but Bruce and Dick had rapidly shown him the error of that belief. His relative speed and ability to fight dirty might have made him the equal of a random street hood, but against opponents of the caliber Batman usually fought, he would be worse than useless.

It was a frustrating realization, especially with all the extra subjects that Bruce insisted he learn. Given his ultimate goal of vengeance, it was tough to see the value in classic literature or mathematics.

The anger he still felt, combined with the annoyance of starting from scratch, bled out in arguments every now and then. Once, after a poor sparring session, and when Alfred had been going over King Lear with him, he'd hurled the book aside in frustration.

Alfred hadn't said anything, but the disapproving look that he'd received from the refined English butler had driven him to help out with household chores for the next week.

He'd realized the truth though, after a time. Even if he had been able to fight on their level, he still was an amateurish detective, which in many ways was just as important. He knew nothing about blood spatter analysis, toxicology, ballistics or criminal psychology.

Bruce and Dick showed him cases involving criminals who fixated on seemingly "divine" numbers, or serial killers who were inspired by poetry and fables. Every bit of knowledge that he picked up might prove useful, in the future.

Everything he learned, every random skill he picked up. It all brought him closer to his goal, bit by bit.

Within the first few weeks, he realized he liked the training. The sparring, the obstacle courses. Learning how to gather and preserve evidence, learning chemistry and physics and the mathematics of cryptography. Even the literature Alfred foisted upon him, to a point.

Within a month, he realized that he was doing well. It wasn't obvious, and if he hadn't been so focused on making Bruce and Dick proud, he would never have noticed. Every now and then, he'd see a faint look of surprise from them as he got better at some new skill more quickly than they'd expected.

It made him work all the harder, hoping to see that look not once a week, but once a day.

His efforts had paid off, in the end. Tonight was the first night that Bruce had been willing to let Jason accompany him and Dick out on a patrol. There were strict rules of engagement in place, but it would still be his first night out as a member of the Bat family. He couldn't wait.

That was what had brought him back here, to where Lorena was buried.

Jason wasn't sure he believed in an afterlife, but he hoped that if there was one, that she and the rest of their friends were at peace. He hoped that they'd be proud of what he was trying to do for them.

Slowly, reverently, he placed the flowers that he'd brought with him on her grave. It felt like he should say something to mark the occasion. What he wouldn't have given to have just one of them here to speak with.

These days, he had enough control over himself to avoid most of the nightmares, but he was still haunted by memories of what had happened. He still missed them all terribly. He still felt guilty that he was standing there, while they were gone.

As Batman had said, some wounds never truly healed.

Remembering Lorena's last words to him, he decided on vocalizing the truth. "I'll never forget you guys." he said. "Or what you did for me. Ever."

He placed his hand on the grave marker, feeling cold stone under his fingers. "I'll make them pay for what they did to us. I promise."

* * *

 **Wayne Manor, Gotham City**

 **July 2nd, 2012**

 **18:38 EST**

He took the Zeta tube back to Gotham City. Alfred picked him up in the Rolls-Royce and drove him back to the manor. The rapid transition of European midnight to late afternoon that came from teleportation was disorienting, but Jason didn't let him bother him too much.

Tonight was the night.

He practically ran into the house as soon as Alfred had parked the car, throwing open the hidden entrance to the Batcave and bounding down the stairs two at a time.

Dick smirked as Jason tripped over himself in his excitement on the last few stairs, but the younger boy caught himself, managing to avoid face-planting on the floor by transitioning into an acceptable roll.

"Hey Bruce," Dick called out to his mentor, who was seated in front of the Bat-computer. "You sure we should let the squirt out onto the streets tonight?"

Jason's fist thudded into his arm, eliciting a chuckle from Dick. In truth, he'd barely felt the blow through his new armor, but then, the fact that he'd felt anything at all from Jason's punch meant that Jason's strength and technique were light years ahead from what they'd been when he first started training.

"You bench me tonight, and I'll kill you." Jason said, deathly serious. He punched the former boy wonder again in the gut for good measure

"Alright, alright. Yeesh." Dick laughed as he retreated in the face of a few more punches. "Forget I said anything."

Bruce stood up from the computer after a moment, an act that caused both Dick and Jason to stop their impromptu training session. Their mentor and adopted father had yet to don his cowl, which meant that both boys could see the faint smile etched onto Bruce's face as he approached them.

They all felt the significance of what was about to happen.

He looked down at Jason, meeting the young boy's hopeful expression. "Are you ready?" He asked.

"Born ready."

Bruce nodded, satisfied, before reaching up to don his cowl. Dick mirrored the gesture, removing his domino mask from his utility belt and sticking it to his face.

"Nightwing."

Dick responded to the unspoken command. His fingers danced across the holographic display on his vambrace, shutting down power to the Bat-cave. The lights shut off with a dull clunk, leaving them standing together in the darkness of the Batcave.

Jason heard, rather than saw, a match being struck, and suddenly, the three of them were illuminated by the soft light of a candle.

"Raise your right hand," Batman intoned solemnly, "and repeat after me."

* * *

The suit felt like it had been made just for him.

In a literal sense, that was true: Lucius had fabricated each component of the armor with Jason's frame in mind, from the bulletproof ceramic-metallic disks woven into the kevlar-nomex weave of the body to the sound-absorbent soles of his armored boots.

But the instant he put it on, Jason felt a sense of… something, running through his body. It wasn't a sensation that could really be put into words. Righteousness. Excitement. Anticipation. A blend of emotions that made him feel like his whole life had been leading up to this moment.

"How does it feel?" Batman's voice called out to him from the garage level of the Batcave. Nightwing and Alfred were with him, all of them waiting for the new boy wonder to reveal himself to them for the first time.

Jason flexed his fingers in his armored gloves, rotated his shoulders, testing his range of motion. It felt good. It felt powerful.

It felt right.

Rather than say so, Jason took a running leap off over the railing of the nearest walkway, using his cape with practiced ease to glide until he was directly over the Batmobile.

He deactivated the gliding mechanism abruptly, swooping out of the air to land heavily on the hood of the Batmobile. All of their eyes were on him.

Jason puffed his chest out theatrically, revealing the bright yellow "R" emblazoned on his chest. "This is the best day of my life."


End file.
